


These Wicked Knights

by PeachyxQueenx



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A Lot of Plot, Aggressive Kylo, Angry Kylo, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Interrogation, Kylo's Prisoner, Like - Murder in the First Paragraph, Lots of Angst, M/M, Multi, Obsessive Kylo, Porn With Plot, Probably a happy ending, Sassy Reader, Slow Burn, Smut, TROPES FOR DAYS, Violent, angsty kylo, dominant Kylo, fiesty reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyxQueenx/pseuds/PeachyxQueenx
Summary: Kylo is being stalked in his dreams by you - a rebel he can't identify. The distraction is costing him. He vows to kill you with the help of his knights, ending the distraction once and for all.-------------------This is reader-insert, but some chapters (including the first one) are from 3rd person POV ranging between Kylo & the Knights and are not written as reader-insert, but it's you, I promise.This fic was born from my incessant wondering about the relationships between Kylo & the Knights. Set pre-TFA and will be canon-divergent.
Relationships: Knights of Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You, Vicrul/Kuruk
Comments: 32
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter warning: Violence
> 
> This fic will include scenes of murder and violence, and dealing with injuries (including cuts), though not what I would consider overly graphic. Proceed with due caution <3

In a back alley on the city covered planet of Coruscant, six robed and masked warriors stood behind their leader, silent as he used the Force to crush the windpipe of the rebel scum they’d captured. The rebel clawed uselessly at the invisible pressure on his neck, his nails clawing into his own flesh to attempt to relieve the pressure as he choked and gasped his final breaths. Ushar shifted restlessly, unsatisfied with how quickly Master Ren was killing him. Slow and painful. That was how he preferred his kills. But they were running out of time, and Hux would start asking questions if they didn’t return to base soon. Not even Master Ren could slow down time to savour this kill.

Cardo grunted in satisfaction as the rebel stopped struggling, his limbs falling loose, his own blood dripping from his fingertips. Master Ren dropped him to the ground, striding away with heavy footsteps against the stone lined path. Tension crackled off of him in waves. Their evening hunt had been unsuccessful, the rebels they caught unable to provide him with the answer he was looking for. The Knights fell in line, not daring to utter a word as they followed their master back to the Night Buzzard. The sun had just begun to rise as they neared the ship, the hiss as the hydraulic ramp descended greeting them. 

Kuruk walked straight to the pilot’s chair, flipping switches and preparing for departure. The ship flared to life, beeps sounding and lights flashing as Kuruk’s fingers deftly ran along the controls, the engine purring under his ministrations. The others buckled themselves in, the last click sounding only seconds before Kuruk shot them into space, heading back towards Starkiller Base. 

The only sign Kylo Ren showed of his displeasure of failing his mission was the slow, methodical clenching and unclenching of his fist. As though he were still imagining taking the life from the rebel scum who lay dead in the alley they found him. Next time, he wouldn’t fail. Next time he would find the rebel who had been infiltrating his unconscious, and crush the life from her too. And he’d enjoy every damn minute of it. 

—————

The valley was covered in long swaths of grass, lush green life spreading around them as far as the eye could see. She was sitting there, her eyes closed, hands resting palm up on her knees, legs crossed. Her face was wholly unremarkable. The type of face you would pass in the street and never think of again. It frustrated Kylo to no end. A gentle wind breezed through, ruffling his hair. Kylo ground his teeth in response, the feeling making him feel volatile. Some would consider this place a paradise. He considered it his own personal nightmare.

“I can feel you staring at me”, she said, the irritation in her voice softened by the smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Kylo wishes for nothing more that to rip that smile from her face.

“I don’t want to be here,” Kylo said, his voice sharp in contrast to the peace of this place. Even the birds in the trees that had been chirping softly quieted at his tone, some even flying off to find refuge away from his hostile energy.

“Then leave,” she said simply, eyes never opening. The words were said calmly, but Kylo could hear the challenge in them, the anger that increased slightly each time they met like this. It had been his only indication that these dreams were more than a perversion created by his subconscious, that there was a real person behind the nightly intrusions. Someone he could find, could make suffer. He relished the thought of ending her life the way he'd ended the rebels who'd known nothing of her, their minds useless as he rifled through them looking for answers.

It was always the same conversation in these dreams, though sometimes Kylo yelled, screamed, demanded to know who she was and where she was. She never answered, and so he didn't bother asking now. Kylo’s hand clenched and unclenched, unnerved by the bare skin as opposed to the leather glove. “Why do you bring me here”, he asked her through gritted teeth, though he already knew how she’d answer. 

“You brought yourself here. You know the exit.”

As if on cue, Kylo felt the heavy weight of his lightsaber settle into his hand. It flared to light under his grip, the red light flashing patterns across her face. Despite this, she didn't move, didn't even flinch. Lifting the buzzing weapon above his head, he readied himself to strike, though he knew it wouldn't make a difference. The dream began to crumble, fading entirely before the lightsaber could connect and sever her head from her body. 

—————

Kylo awoke already sitting up, his arms lifted over his head as though to deliver the death strike. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his back, starting to dot the white tank he wore, and the muscles in his arms and upper torso shook with unreleased tension. Ripping the sheets away from his body, he strode from his rumpled bed into the main room of his living area. Kylo’s quarters were sparse, devoid of any personal effects or items that didn’t serve a purpose. 

He needed a release for the energy coursing through him. He had two options - fighting or fucking. And since the latter would be difficult at this hour on Starkiller, he chose the former.

Even in bare feet, his heavy footfalls echoed around the space as he walked to the comm unit on the wall, smashing the call button that linked directly to Vicrul’s quarters. “Master Ren”, came Vicrul’s voice, heavy with sleep but still alert.

“My quarters,” was all Kylo said, releasing the call button and marching over to the punching bag suspended from the ceiling. He grabbed the gloves off the ground, already feeling himself settle as he tightened the straps, flexing his fingers.

It had only been minutes since Vicrul was summoned to his quarters, but already Kylo’s tank was drenched through with sweat. Though perhaps not all of it was as a result of the exertion of leveling blow after blow onto the punching bag. Vicrul noted the length of Master Ren’s hair, longer than he normally kept it, the strands soaked in sweat and dripping into his eyes. He looked…

Kylo didn’t let him finish that thought, grabbing a towel and heading into the adjacent room, Vicrul following behind him. The space opened into a large training room, the floor lined with padded mats and the walls ringed with shelves of weapons of every variety and size. Vicrul picked up the wood scythe, weighted perfectly to his specifications. The ideal training weapon that wouldn’t accidentally cut his sparring partner in half. His hands slid along the curved edge before tossing the weapon in the air, catching the handle and swinging the weapon, feeling its weight as it cut through the air.

“Hit me,” Kylo said, standing in the centre of the room with his eyes closed, the sweat soaked towel was discarded on the floor nearby. He held no weapon, made no move to defend himself. In the long weeks that blurred into months, Vicrul stopped questioning the order, even in his head. It only angered Master Ren, and he never took his anger out on Vicrul anyways. He knew better – knew how to hit him where it truly hurt.

Kylo grunted, the only sign of his annoyance at the tenor of Vicrul’s thoughts. Hesitating no longer, Vicrul swung the weapon as he moved, savouring the familiar burn of muscles that flexed as he prepared to strike. Still Kylo did not move, awaiting the blow. Inches before the scythe connected with his bare flesh, Kylo focused all his energy on the Force, blocking out all other sounds, sights, thoughts, preparing for the hit. His fingers flexed, clenched, flexed, in a rhythmic motion. The scythe bounced back, Vicrul barely concealing the sound of effort from having the weapon reverberate in his hand from hitting the solid wall that Master Ren had wrapped himself in.

For the next two hours, Vicrul never relented, swinging hit after hit that never penetrated Kylo’s concentration. 

Only once, as Kylo’s attention wandered for just a split second to a grassy valley, did Vicrul’s scythe penetrate the invisible armor. The wound wasn’t deep – by the time Kylo realized his concentration had slipped, he reinforced the barrier, the scythe leaving nothing more than a shallow cut along his bicep. Vicrul stepped back at the sight of the blood, hesitating. In all the weeks of these late sessions, he'd never gotten a hit in, never broken through the barrier. Vicrul wasn't cocky enough to think that it was due to his skill with the scythe - though he was impressive with the blade. He knew that whatever was troubling Master Ren had reached a point where it was affecting his ability to focus for extended periods of time, concerning for their leader...

“Get out,” was all Kylo said, not waiting to see if Vicrul would listen before heading to the small kitchen, rummaging through cupboards. The door to his quarters hissed open and shut but Kylo paid the sound no heed. His fist closed around what he was looking for, the roaring in his head getting louder. Distraction is weakness. Even his men were seeing it now. He needed to focus, and to not forget the consequences of losing focus. With that thought, he dumped the salt he’d found into his palm, pressing it deep into the wound, not allowing himself any reaction as it bit at the cut.

He would wear this as a reminder – the salt making sure it didn't heal without a visible scar - that distractions could not, would not be tolerated. His fist clenched once more, the movement flexing his bicep and causing a rivulet of blood to run down, trailing along his forearm. This had already taken too long – finding the dream walker. He would find her. Today. And he would do what was required to end the source of his distraction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in your life as a mildly disgruntled rebel who doesn't know she dream walks.

You woke up still feeling exhausted despite the full night’s sleep. You wished for just a little more time to catch some much needed rest, but the horns blaring would allow no such thing. Damn resistance and their early morning wake up calls. You’d never been a morning person, and being forced to start the day before the sun had fully risen made you question every decision that brought you to the rebel camp.

The day was already muggy, your hair escaping its bun in wisps and plastering to the back of your neck and sides of your face from all the sweat. You struggled to convince yourself to get out of bed, your datapad and the fic by your favourite author calling your name. But with the horn still blaring there was no way you’d be able to enjoy the latest update, so with a resigned groan you finally climbed out of bed. 

The jungle that held this outpost of the rebel faction was… less than impressive. Growing up on the streets, a victim of the Galactic Empire, you dreamt of one day joining the rebels, fighting back and having it better than you did. An idealistic plan from the naïve girl you were. All these years later, as you bathed in a stream so murky you couldn’t see the bottom, you yet again questioned your choices that brought you here. And why the hell you were staying.

As though summoned by the tenor of your thoughts, Kaith strolled over to the edge of the water, her hands on her hips in a sassy pose that was completely erased by the broad, unrestrained smile on her face.

“You absolutely lazy louse get out of the water,” she chided, laughing at your scowl. 

“Another riveting day of menial chores just can’t wait for me to clean myself?” You sniped back, though you were already standing, heading towards her. She grabbed your towel off the ground, shaking it out before wrapping it around you, squeezing you tight in a hug and kissing you on the nose. You shoved her lightly, laughing as you both walked back towards your hut. She waited outside while you changed in the small space. Though she didn’t do so for any sense of modesty – practically speaking, the space was just too tiny for her to stand around while you got ready. 

“You’re on kitchens today,” she called in, laughing before you could even start groaning. “I’m prepping for tomorrow’s flight training.” You could hear the smug satisfaction in her voice, not that you blamed her. Poe Dameron had said she had potential – her and a handful of other rebels at the camp – and was hand training them himself.

“Wanna trade?” You asked, finally emerging from your hut dressed in the drab neutrals of the resistance. You hated the clothes, the way they never quite fit, made everyone blend together. In theory you understood the benefits, but in practice? You missed everything about being able to choose how to dress. The other members of the rebel camp were now bustling around, preparing for the days work ahead. All of them seemed to be buzzing with excitement at the chance to do anything to contribute towards the cause.

“Ha! Not a chance. Poe is actually letting me fly solo tomorrow. Can you believe it? My own ship.” Kaith’s eyes glazed over, and while you were wildly jealous, you were also beyond happy for your friend. It wasn’t her fault that you hadn’t found your purpose yet, something to motivate you, make you feel part of the group. Plus she had worked incredibly hard for this, and you were really, truly proud of her. So you told her as much. 

“Don’t get soft on me now y/n,” she teased, wrapping you in a quick hug as you both stopped at the entrance to the kitchens. Kaith skipped – literally skipped away – waving at you over her shoulder with a shouted goodbye. You stared after her for long moments, mentally preparing yourself for the day’s work ahead. Wondering how she was so happy here, and why it wasn’t the same for you.

~~~

The day came to a close, ending much the same as you’d started. Hair escaped your bun, clinging to your skin as sweat coated you from a full day in the fiery heat of the kitchens mixed with the humidity of the day. You used to take the time to bathe before bed, when you first arrived at the camp, but now you knew better. Knew that you’d just wake up sweaty again anyways. So you hauled your ass back to your hut, not bothering to look for Kaith. She was likely sitting in the pilot’s chair, psyching herself up for tomorrow. 

You kicked rocks out of the way as you went, the only thing to look forward to the latest fic update waiting for you on your datapad. 

The sun was just setting beyond the trees, the jungle glowing near golden and the clouds a wash of vibrant pinks and oranges. You didn’t notice, didn’t look up once, as you trudged the rest of the way to your hut, eyes cast down. The sun finished its descent as you laid in bed, tucking yourself in for the night, the faint glow from the datapad the only light in the dark space.

\-----

The dream – the first of many you’d have tonight – was much the same as normal. Though you couldn’t see it, you knew you were in a valley, grass rolling away from where you sat in every direction, clusters of trees dotting around the space. Birds were chirping softly, and the wind was almost melodic as it blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. It was as though not being able to see heightened your other senses, until you could feel your surroundings. 

The person in front of you was conflicted – you could feel it in the same way you could feel the rabbit hopping in the grass near the tree line. Without prompt, as though she understood why she was called here, she began to tell you her story. About the man who ran the brothel she worked at. The missing girls. Her suspicions they were being sold to the highest bidder, transported off planet. 

Like anyone else that came to you in these dreams, they didn’t need you here, not really. They talked themselves through their problem, right through to the solution. 

This girl was no different, a steely resolve settling over her as she decided her course of action. It was always the same, person after person. She disappeared as swiftly as she’d arrived, and you waited for the next one. 

You wondered if it would be him. The angry one with the deep voice, who refused to address his conflict, the choices he needed to make shredding his soul. No matter how many times he appeared, or how long he stayed, he never spoke of what troubled him. 

He was always the last person to visit you each night, as though he held out for as long as he could, fighting the pull of this space until he had no choice. Though some part of him wanted to come here, if he kept returning night after night. You’d tried different ways to get him to talk, but the more you said the angrier he would get, so you chose silence more often, though you couldn’t help the occasional sassy remark here and there.

The next person settled in, their energy too calm to be him. You were surprised to find yourself a bit disappointed, but didn’t focus on the feeling. Instead you sat, listening to person after person, problem after problem. On and on it went, but still they came. As they would until you awoke. 

After it had been silent for some time, the illusion of the valley began to break down, boulder-sized chunks of landscape breaking away and tumbling into nothing. 

That night, for the first night in months, he hadn’t come. 

\-----

When you awoke in the morning, like every morning, the memory of those encounters slipped from your mind like sand in a sieve, leaving behind nothing but a deep exhaustion that settled into your bones as you started yet another day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the Knights are definitely closer than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is m/m smut with the barest sprinkle of plot. A character study in the relationships between the Knights.

With Kuruk at the helm, the Night Buzzard flew smoothly to their next destination. Based on the dark circles under his eyes, more prominent today than normal, Master Ren hadn’t slept, choosing instead to wake Vicrul and the rest of the Knights to board the ship while the overnight skeleton crew still moved through the hangar. Now they all lounged about, settling in for the nearly three-day journey to Tatooine.

Vicrul surveyed the other Knights from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Ushar was beating Cando ruthlessly at a game of cards, the pile of tokens between them substantial. Ap'lek sat quietly, in a deeply meditative state, trying to hone his Force sensitivity. Vicrul resisted the urge to throw something at his head. Trudgen, the lazy prick, was half asleep in a cot, mouth hanging open. And Vicrul – the tension buzzing from Master Ren’s first was nearly palpable. His foot tapped restlessly on the ground.

Master Ren paced the room, unable to settle. Vicrul’s mind kept roaming to the man on the Bridge, his thoughts getting more depraved the longer he stood here. But he knew better than to leave this room with Master Ren still present.

No doubt catching the flicker of images flashing in Vicrul’s thoughts, Master Ren scowled at him before thundering toward Trudgen, kicking his cot and knocking the warrior on his ass. The sound of the metal frame hitting the ground reverberated loudly through the small space, Ap'lek cracking an eye open in irritation. Master Ren didn’t wait for Trudgen to follow, taking long strides out of the common area and towards the small but equipped sparring room. Trudgen stood in one smooth movement, the promise of violence rippling off him as he stalked after Master Ren.

Vicrul had barely waited five seconds after they left the room before the energy thrumming through him overtook his better sense. He stood up, avoiding the snide comment from Ap'lek he knew was coming by flipping him off. Ap'lek just laughed, a deeply disturbing sound, and returned to his meditation.

The corridor leading to the Bridge was empty, much to Vicrul’s relief. While he didn’t enjoy the extra work when they flew without a crew, he did appreciate the solitude of being in the vastness of space with no one but the other Knights for company. Less chance of being walked in on in a compromising position. Plus, they could be without their masks. It was a great tool for instilling fear, and truthfully it did look _really_ badass, but it was a relief to spend time just as Vicrul.

The door to the Bridge hummed open on his approach, the sight before him forcing a rush of air through his nose in amusement. Kuruk was passed out cold, his feet propped up on the command centre, his arms crossed behind his head in the massive, reclined captain’s chair. He was lucky it wasn’t Master Ren walking into the room finding him like this. Vicrul’s head still throbbed when he thought of the last time Master Ren had taken out his anger on him- though he’d definitely deserved it.

Looking down at Kuruk’s sleeping figure, Vicrul felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest. Not that he’d ever let the other man know, or really acknowledge it himself. Their relationship was purely physical, and Vicrul was fine to keep it that way. Less complicated.

Running his fingers through the sleeping man’s hair, he tugged – hard – waking him up as he crushed their mouths together. Kuruk didn’t miss a beat, waking instantly, kissing him back while bringing his legs off the console so that Vicrul could straddle him. Vicrul tightened his grip, the coarse strands of hair wrapping around his fingers as he deepened the kiss.

Already they were both wound up, Vicrul’s pants tight with his erection straining for attention. It had been too long. Most nights they’d been able to find relief in each other, but for the last two months Master Ren had called him to his quarters in the dead of night to deal with whatever was keeping him up. It got in the way of his time with Kuruk, forcing them to take full advantage of moments like these.

Vicrul, not one to waste time, ground down into Kuruk’s lap, chasing any type of friction. Kuruk groaned, reaching for his belt, his movements quick and efficient as he unbuckled it.

“Get down on your knees,” Kuruk said into the kiss, and Vicrul moaned – embarrassingly loud – as he complied with the order. Detangling his hands from Kuruk’s hair, Vicrul climbed off his lap and sank to his knees, his hands resting on Kuruk’s thighs, squeezing - hard.

Vicrul was many things. Patient wasn’t one of them.

He pushed Kuruk’s hands away from where he’d only begun to unbutton his pants, ripping at them with enough force that Kuruk’s hips thrust slightly forward. Kuruk slapped him across the face, grinning down at him cockily, Vicrul snarling in response. Rough. Hostile. This was more comfortable for them both. More familiar than whatever emotion had tried to surface when Vicrul first walked onto the Bridge.

Finally, _finally_ , Kuruk’s erection popped free, Vicrul wasting no time wrapping his hands around his impressive length that swelled in his firm grip. Kuruk grunted as Vicrul stroked up and down, squeezing the bead of precum to the tip and swiping it with his thumb, the callouses on his hand causing Kuruk to shudder with pleasure.

Kuruk’s patience, which on a good day was only slightly better than Vicrul’s, was non-existent today. He roughly grabbed Vicrul’s hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers before he gripped, tightly, pushing his head down. Vicrul let him, wrapping his mouth around his cock, keeping his hand firmly at the base, pumping in time with the bobbing of his head.

Kuruk leaned back, closing his eyes, mouth hanging open in pleasure. Kuruk felt every lick, every time Vicrul hollowed out his cheeks and _sucked_. He was panting now, hips starting to thrust of their own accord up into Vicrul’s hot, wet mouth. Kuruk stroked the hand that wasn’t fisted in Vicrul’s hair along his jaw, his fingers itching to slap him again.

The sensation of Kuruk’s hand on his face felt too gentle despite the threat of another stinging hit, so Vicrul dragged his teeth, hard enough that Kuruk winced slightly, along his erection – which, impossibly, hardened further.

As he knew it would, the gentle stroke turned into another slap across Vicrul‘s face that had him shifting where he knelt, becoming even more turned on and desperate for relief. He palmed himself through his pants, but the friction wasn’t enough. He needed more.

Kuruk looked down in time to see Vicrul pull his erection out, moaning openly as he watched him work his hand over his own cock ruthlessly. The sight of it sent Kuruk – who didn’t think he was that close – right over the edge. He pushed Vicrul’s head down, holding him there as he swore, hips thrusting as he came down his throat.

Vicrul swallowed while Kuruk’s cock was still buried down his throat, the sensation overwhelming and causing Kuruk to twitch and shudder as he came down from the high. Kuruk pulled him off, tugging his head backwards by his hair so he could study the drool on Vicrul’s chin, his lips puffy from the friction. Vicrul gave him a wicked grin, his hand slowing down on his own cock to a gentle stroking. Kuruk eyed the puddle of precum on the ground, Vicrul looking down at what caught his attention and smirking wickedly in return.

“Get up. Bend over the console,” Vicrul said, voice gruff, standing to make room for Kuruk to rise and do as ordered.

Kuruk left his pants on but unbuttoned, knowing Vicrul liked it this way.

Bent over the console, careful not to lean on any buttons that were _too_ important, Kuruk waited with breathless anticipation as Vicrul walked up behind him, tugging down his pants until Kuruk was exposed, leaving them wrapped around his thighs.

Vicrul spat inelegantly on his fingers, using two to pry open Kuruk, warming him up. It took every bit of effort he had not to moan at the feeling of his fingers breaching his tight hole. As it was, he couldn’t resist grabbing his dick with his other hand and pumping slowly in rhythm with his fingers. He kept working him open, scissoring his fingers roughly, spitting again on his hand before adding a third.

Despite the orgasm that had barely subsided, Kuruk found himself getting hard again, his erection grinding into the edge of the command console, the pain only adding to his pleasure. Kuruk practically keened as Vicrul found _the_ spot, brushing up against it over and over as he pumped his fingers in and out.

By now Vicrul would have normally been balls deep into Kuruk, but he kept pumping, teasing him endlessly. Kuruk began shifting, rubbing his erection along the now warm metal console, chasing any kind of relief for his aching dick. Vicrul pushed on his prostate right as Kuruk thrust forward, the dual sensations forcing a depraved moan from his lips, his hands gripping the edge of the console so hard his knuckles turned white.

This was what Vicrul was waiting for – that desperation. He loved this- watching Kuruk come undone. He pulled his fingers free, Kuruk shuddering at the loss of sensation, though it was only a moment before Vicrul stepped forward, rubbing his erection along his cleft. Kuruk rocked back, beginning to feel desperate, and Vicrul obliged, thrusting forward and sheathing himself in one motion. Both men grunted, Vicrul pausing to pant as his dick throbbed, stilling Kuruk’s hips that were trying to push back. Vicrul must have been more worked up than Kuruk thought, if he was already this close.

Kuruk kept pushing back, wanting to see the other man lose control. It worked. Vicrul leaned forward, his hand wrapping around Kuruk’s throat and squeezing as he fucked into him. The edge of the console was smashing against his dick and thighs painfully, the sensation turning him on further. He could feel the slick mess of precum smearing against the metal, rubbing along his thighs.

Kuruk was outright panting now on each thrust, though Vicrul’s vice grip on his throat cutting off his airway was the likely cause. He could feel Vicrul’s legs shaking, his thrusts turning erratic as he chased his orgasm.

Kuruk moaned at the new sensations, the sound vibrating against Vicrul’s hand. Vicrul leaned forward, resting his forehead against Kuruk’s muscled back he could feel tensing even under his clothes as his orgasm beckoned. Knowing Vicrul was getting close was only adding to Kuruk’s pleasure. Wanting to take back some control – or as much as he could with Vicrul’s dick in his ass and hand around his throat – he rocked back against the constant pounding, releasing his tight grip on the console and reaching backwards between their bodies. His forearm was getting crushed between them, but he managed to grab Vicrul by the balls and tug, hard.

It was enough to send Vicrul flying over the edge, pushing deep into Kuruk as he came, hard enough that white spots popped behind his closed eyes. Kuruk could feel Vicrul’s cock throbbing deep within him, filling him as his loud moans echoed around the room. Kuruk let out a cry as he came for a second time, his cum coating the side of the console and dripping onto the floor.

Vicrul released his hold on Kuruk’s neck, both men becoming somewhat boneless as Vicrul leaned his body along Kuruk for support, the console doing most of the work for them both. Kuruk could feel Vicrul’s breaths along his neck, the puffs of air slowing as they wound down.

Absently, Vicrul kissed the back of Kuruk’s neck as he rose, slapping him on the ass as he pulled out. They re-assembled themselves in comfortable silence, the sound of zippers being done up and belts being buckled echoing loudly.

“Alright get off the Bridge,” Kuruk said, looking through the supplies cabinet for a rag to clean up their mess. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Is that’s why I came in here to you dead asleep?” Vicrul retorted. “You’re lucky it was me who walked in here and not Master Ren.”

“You’re right,” Kuruk said, rag in hand heading back to the console, wiping it down. “I have a feeling Master Ren wouldn’t obey if I told him to get on his knees.”

Vicrul snorted at the idea of Master Ren letting anyone take control.

Kuruk tossed the dirtied rag at Vicrul, his reflexes having him catch it before realizing what he was doing. Fist now clenched around the cum-drenched rag, he debated shoving it down Kuruk’s throat. Or kissing him again. Kuruk arched an eyebrow in a silent dare.

He settled on neither, tossing the rag in the trash near the door and walking out of the room and back to the common area without so much as a goodbye. Despite his boneless legs from the mind-numbing orgasm, Vicrul found he didn’t quite feel as satisfied as he’d hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is the day! Kaith gets to fly, and you get to wallow in misery as you suffer through another day at the rebel camp. But what has Poe Dameron so angry?

You watched with breathless anticipation as Kaith’s X-wing began its ascent. Although the daily chores list indicated you were supposed to be assisting Qoh with electronics repair, you wouldn’t miss this for the world. Kaith was flying. By herself. Pride constricted your heart, your lungs. The thrill of watching someone you love succeeding at chasing their dream? An unmatched feeling.

Sleep had held you longer than normal last night, and you’d slept in past when you had intended. Though you wished you’d been able to hug Kaith before she boarded the X-wing, offering her words of encouragement wrapped by a few sassy remarks, you’d celebrate with her on her return.

Several other rebels in the camp stopped to watch the half dozen ships lift from the ground, trees swaying and bending away from the hovering fleet, dust kicking up and forcing everyone to shield their eyes. On some invisible command, the ships shot into the bright blue sky, winking out of existence. 

They would be gone for hours, training amongst the stars. You yearned to see them again; to savour the freedom of simply existing in the cosmos. 

Turning your head down to bring yourself back to reality, you began the trek across the camp to Qoh’s ramshackle facility. The day was unseasonably warm. Again. In the 6 months since you had arrived, you’d yet to experience weather other than scorching heat. As you walked through the camp, the sights and sounds of a day already well underway greeted you. 

A group of children ran past, chasing each other. You slowed down to let them pass, their shrieks of laughter fading as they disappeared beyond the tree line.

By the time you reached Qoh’s, you were dripping sweat. Rolling up your sleeves and unbuttoning the top of your stiff shirt, you pushed your way into the facility. Which was a really generous word for the borderline hoarder’s den that Qoh used as a workstation. The building itself was made of metal, one of the only ones in the camp that bothered to use such a precious resource. But on the rare occasions of rain, the electronics needed to be protected.

Though it didn’t stop the building from looking ready to collapse at any minute, leaning dangerously to one side. The interior wasn’t much better. Benches lined the space, made of recycled wood, sagging under the weight of the items stacked precariously to the ceiling. Qoh swore there was a method to the madness, but you found it to be chaotic.

A loud crashing sound was followed by a string of garbled sounds that sounded a lot like swearing, and you walked around piles of wires and random bits of junk to find Qoh hunched over … well you weren’t sure what. But it was steaming. And was that a spark? 

“Hey Qoh,” you said, squatting beside his small frame.

“Kaith fly?” he asked, adjusting his glasses as they slid down his almost nonexistent nose. Qoh may have been a withered old Anzellan, but he was also a busybody who knew all the goings on at the camp.

“Smooth as butter,” you replied, leaving it at that. You made a point not to feed into his need for gossip, though you happily listened when he shared information with you.

Qoh made a non-committal sound, pointing at a tangle of wires on the nearby table. You grabbed them, detangling them one by one and handing them to him. As he worked, you let your mind wander. Your job when you were working here wasn’t anything that took much effort. Qoh would point at something, and you’d sort it into being useable before he went back to whatever he was doing. You hadn’t been sleeping well lately, or really for a long time if you thought about it. Sorting through items in Qoh’s workshop was the next best thing to napping.

As the day wore on, the small space heated until even the rolled sleeves of your uniform didn’t offer a reprieve. The sweat dotted your brow, running down your temples. You could feel it dripping down your spine, pooling on your lower back. The uniform felt more like a straight jacket with the suffocating heat.

Qoh took a look at you, a little flush from the heat, and waved you out, muttering to himself in Anzellan. You weren’t going to argue. You climbed to your feet, being careful not to knock anything over as you made your way out into the late afternoon sun. Despite being outside, no breeze offered you any relief, and as you trudged across the camp, you continued to feel the flush creep down your neck.

Checking the time, you realized Kaith should be back. Switching directions, you headed to the cluster of benches at the tree lined edge of the camp where the pilots and future pilots would hang out after a return journey, debriefing and analyzing and generally basking in their self-perceived awesomeness. Not that you were jealous.

You were only halfway there when the alarms began to blare, the sound so loud you slapped your hands over your ears even if it barely helped. Rebels started running, shouting and barking orders. It was immediately apparent this was not a drill.

One of the younger mechanics was running past, and you grabbed her arm, stopping her from barrelling right past you.

“What the hell is going on?” You yelled, struggling to be heard over the alarm.

“The trainees were attacked,” she yelled back, slipping from your grasp as she continued running wherever she was headed.

Your heart, which was already thundering in a fear response from the relentless alarms, stumbled before kicking into overdrive. Your palms sweat, worse than before, and you were glad for skipping lunch, if only to avoid it ending up on your shoes.

You set off at a sprint, your feet slapping hard against the ground as you ran to the command area where you’d get more information. Maybe they hadn’t actually been attacked, maybe it was a miscommunication.

The closer you got to command, the more that made sense. Who would be flying close enough to this forsaken planet to even see the X-wings practicing flight formations? Plus, you’d know if something had happened to Kaith… wouldn’t you?

Command was buzzing, rebels running to Generals, relaying information before running off again. A row of rebels with headsets all seemed to be talking at once, to whoever was on the other end, their fingers flying fast over the keyboards of the computers in front of them. Between the alarms, the frenzy, the shouts, you were learning nothing new. Rebels ran past you, bumping into your shoulders as they passed, not even stopping to apologize.

The heat, the lack of food, and the all-encompassing fear for Kaith made you feel dizzy, and you grabbed onto the nearest table for support. You would not pass out for fuck’s sakes. Giving yourself a few quick smacks to your cheeks, you pulled it together, looking around to decide who would give you the answers you needed.

The decision was made for you when Poe Dameron ran into the command area, his helmet clutched in his hand. His face was twisted in pure anger.

“FUCKING DAMMIT!” he yelled, tossing his helmet – hard. Rebels jumped out of the way as it sailed past, everyone falling silent for a beat before he was rushed, the cacophony of sound as everyone asked him for information drowning out any possible response.

Every second, every minute felt like torture. Finally, Poe lifted his hand, effectively silencing the crowd. His face was lined with harsh edges, and in all your months here you’d never seen him look so… pissed.

“I don’t know what the fuck happened out there, but I can say our ground base has not been breached or identified,” he said, the crowd beginning to relax as they realized their safety, and the safety of those in the camp was not at risk. You knew though, from the way he specified ground, that he did not extend that promise of safety to those in the air.

“We had begun our training exercise, but a few of the pilots were less prepared than I had anticipated. We flew farther out than our original flight plan to accommodate a larger area around each X-wing. Two pilots went farther than I’d specified. Much farther. Outside of communications range. I tried ordering them back, but they couldn’t hear me. I sent the rest of the pilots back here, but the two – they were intercepted. By the Night Buzzard.”

Fear rippled through the rebels hanging on his every word. Everyone knew of the Night Buzzard – the preferred ship of the sadistic Kylo Ren and his Knights of Ren. The crowd began murmuring, but Poe pushed on.

“They shot down one of the X-wings on site. By the time I got there, nothing was left but floating debris.”

“And the other ship?” A voice called out, and the crowd stepped back as General Leia Organa approached. She was a legend, someone who commanded respect. You couldn’t help but feel a little awed by her presence – and the rest of the rebels seemed to agree, bowing their heads slightly towards where she stood. You didn’t even know that she had arrived to the measly camp.

“It was gone when I got there. The debris wasn’t enough to account for two X-wings. My best guess is that they anchored the X-wing to their ship and took whoever was inside prisoner.”

Your mouth felt sandpaper dry, your tongue too bulky for your mouth, but you chewed on the words before managing to spit them out.

“Who were the pilots?”

Everyone turned to look at you, their eyes pressing into your skin. Their attention returned to Poe as he spoke.

“Miralores Barrelis and Kaith Vantin.”

You felt the ground approach quickly, realizing a second too late your legs had given out. You didn’t bother to do anything more than sit where you had fallen, the dull roaring in your ears consuming every thought before it could stick.

You didn’t want to think it, but you couldn’t stop the train of thought from barreling through your conscious. Kaith was either dead, or a prisoner of Kylo Ren. You weren’t sure which one was worse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous angry Kylo Ren workout. Enjoy our large sweaty fridge of a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Mention of blood & minor hand injury.
> 
> Proceed with due caution <3
> 
> Chapters 5, 6 & 7 were originally written as one big chapter, but I broke them down into 3 since they clocked in at almost 5k words total.

The trip to Tatooine had not gone as expected. 

Barely a day into the journey, and the Night Buzzard had picked up two lone ships on its scanners – X-wing fighters from the Resistance. Kylo had ordered the immediate destruction of one ship, and the capture of the other. They had scanned the area, but came up with nothing, Kylo giving the order to return to base with the prisoner.

He knew though what this meant. A Resistance base was nearby. His gloved fists clenched, his thoughts becoming hyper focused on finding out what the rebel knew so he could wipe out another faction of the Resistance – especially one so close to Starkiller Base. He was eager to return to the base, to use the skills in his arsenal to pry the information, painfully, from his prisoner.

The Knights were rowdier than normal. Kylo could hear them from down the hall, their laughter and sniping and general raucousness. They had been promised a night of debauchery in Tatooine as reward for the mission. They must have decided, as they returned without a completed mission or their reward, to have their night of debauchery on the ship. Kylo stood in the hall, debating with himself. 

What he really wanted was to spar with one of the knights – to release the energy coiling around every tense muscle through a brutal fist fight. Instead he left them to enjoy themselves. Though from the sounds of anger from Ap'lek, Ushar was taking him for everything he was worth at poker, and chances are a brawl would start at some point. 

His footsteps echoing back at him in the dark metallic corridor, Kylo walked away from his knights and to the small sparring room. Unlike the well stocked room in his quarters on Starkiller Base, this room was bare, with padded floors and nothing but a punching bag suspended from the ceiling on a metal chain. 

Kylo reached up, activating the releases on his helmet, pulling it off his head and placing it on the floor. He tugged off each leather glove, dropping them on the ground beside the helmet. His fingers worked deftly to unfasten his cloak and pull off his tunic in smooth, controlled movements. Standing there in only his white tank and black pants, he used the leather strap on his bare wrist to tie back his hair to keep it from his eyes. Bouncing from foot to foot & shaking out his wrists, Kylo closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, tuning out all other sound. 

He stepped to the punching bag, his muscles twitching with unreleased strain. One-two. One-two. One-two. The sharp double punch echoed back in the small space, louder than his controlled breathing. Louder even than the constant humming of the ship. One-two. One-two. One-two. 

Minutes ticked by. Possibly hours. Time disappeared as Kylo focused his anger, his strain, his doubts, into the pummeling of his fists. At some point the skin of his knuckles gave way, splitting open and leaving blood stains on the punching bag and flecks of blood spray on the white of his sweat-drenched tank.

The links in the chain rattled against each other, the metal clacking loudly, the suspension anchors drilled into the ceiling groaning deeply, threatening to snap under the pressure. 

Sweat was rolling off him, but he didn’t pause to wipe it away, never losing momentum as he hit the bag. Wisps of hair escaped the leather knot. The sweat coated strands hung in front of his eyes, swinging as his body leaned into the punches he released, one after another. He was distantly aware of the stinging as he repeatedly split open his knuckles. One-two. One-two. One-

The sirens started screaming. 

Again. 

“Oh for fucks sake,” Kylo muttered to himself, stabilizing the swinging bag. He gave it one last hit for good measure.

He didn’t bother to get redressed, walking out of the room, his sweat slicked skin cooling in the artificial air.

The siren continued to wail, the red flashing light pulsing in time with his heavy footsteps down the hallway. Ushar met him halfway to the hatch, falling to the right & a step behind Kylo. His eyes strayed to Kylo’s bloodied knuckles for only a moment, choosing wisely not to say anything. Though Kylo wasn’t spared from all of Ushar’s thoughts, his mind particularly loud today. There were many times, specifically in combat, that the link he had to the minds of his knights was incredibly useful. The rest of the time, he would prefer the connection be … less. Less focus on the depraved things he and Vicrul had been in the middle of before the siren began. 

Kylo tugged on the connection between them hard enough he felt Ushar wince, cutting off a particularly graphic train of thought. He didn’t give a shit if his knights were fucking each other. He just didn’t want a front row seat. 

Turning down the final hallway, they came to a dead end- nothing but a metal and glass hatch on the ground and a control panel on the wall. The hatch that should be sealed. Which now sat open. 

Kylo turned to Ushar, barely containing his anger. “You said the prisoner would not be able to escape.”

Ushar didn’t bother responding, instead opening up the cover on the control panel and punching in a series of codes and flipping switches until the alarm ceased wailing, the red light stopping between one pulse and the next. 

“This is impossible,” Ushar said, his voice strained.

“As you told me the last time the alarm went off.” Kylo said, patience wearing thin.

“And that is still true. The only way to open this hatch is from out here,” he said, tapping the control panel. “Which means either one of the Knights opened the hatch or…”

Kylo balled his fists so hard, rivulets of fresh blood ran down his split knuckles, dripping on the floor by his feet. “Or there is an intruder on my ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a nice comment or a kudos. This is my first fic I've ever let leave my computer, so it means a lot <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had a bit of a dramatic moment of weakness at the thought of losing Kaith. But now? Now you're ready to save your best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Use of the word suicide (referring to suicide mission)
> 
> Proceed with due caution <3 
> 
> Chapters 5, 6 & 7 were originally written as one big chapter, but I broke them down into 3 since they clocked in at almost 5k words total.

You pulled yourself up off the ground. You had a temporary moment of weakness, but now that you’d come to your senses, you were not going to just sit on the ground and accept Kaith’s fate. You were going to rescue her. 

Because you had to believe that she was still alive. You would know it if she wasn’t. It was her he’d taken prisoner, and you wouldn’t leave her in that sadistic asshole’s grip.

Poe was done talking, everyone dispersing in resignation. Cowards. All of them. They were going to leave her to die, not worth the resources. General Organa and Poe were talking, their heads bowed together, their voices hushed whispers. 

With a shake of her head, General Organa walked away, leaving behind a mystified Poe. You walked over to his helmet that was resting in the dirt from when he’d thrown it earlier. It was much heavier than you thought it would be. Carrying it back over to wear he stood, you waited until you were in his line of sight before tossing it at him with more force than was strictly necessary.

“So you’re going to leave her to die?” you asked bluntly, hands on your hips waiting for an answer.

Poe looked you up and down, bristling at your attitude.

“And you are?”

“Kaith’s best friend. And apparently the only person with enough balls to rescue her.”

“It’s a suicide mission,” he said, shaking his head. “If she’s alive – and that’s a big if - she was taken by Kylo Ren. The ship is already on the way back to Starkiller Base. It’s impenetrable. You’ll never be able to get to her.”

“So you can’t help me, or you won’t help me. Either way, you’re a coward,” you said, the bite in your words causing him to wince.

“Look, I get it. It’s never easy to lose people,” he said, real sympathy in his voice. You absently wondered who he’d lost. “But I can’t risk the lives of others to save one person who might already be dead. He’s going to take what he wants from her mind, and then leave her for dead. It’s what he does.”

“Will you give me a ship then? I’ll go myself.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, once again looking you up and down. “Do you even know how to fly?”

You clamped your mouth shut, saying nothing. Not like it mattered. He wouldn’t believe you if you said yes. Because if you could fly, you would have applied to be a pilot – the most coveted role at the Resistance base.

Spitting on the floor by his feet, you gave him one last look of revulsion before you turned on your heel, storming away. To one person who may actually be able to help you.

Q’oh was in his workshop where you’d left him, though from the gleam in his eye when you walked in, you knew the gossip mill had already provided him a full recap of everything that had happened.

“Rescue Kaith?” He said, fingers steepling as he looked at you in what could only be described as eager anticipation.

“I need a ship. I have no chance without a ship. A fast one. That can go undetected.” You said, the list sounding outrageous even to you.

Q’oh jumped down from where he was sitting, motioning impatiently for you to follow him into the door you’d always assumed led to his private quarters. As you expected, there was a small bed, a desk with more electronics piled atop, and a table and chairs sitting on a lush rug. 

“Move,” Q’oh said, gesturing at the table and chairs. You dragged them away from the rug, Q’oh dragging it by the corner once you’d moved the last chair. Underneath the rug was a latch on the floor, which Q’oh pulled up with the help of a metal hook he’d grabbed off his desk. 

It was dark inside the hatch, but you could faintly make out – a tunnel.

Without waiting to see if you’d follow, Q’oh hopped down, grabbing a flashlight off his small toolbelt, the light barely illuminating the small space. You followed behind him, shutting the hutch door. The tunnel was so short, you needed to crawl on your hands and knees in the tight space.

You focused on your breathing, trying to ignore the fact that the tunnel was so narrow you couldn’t even turn around. Q’oh continued on ahead of you, whistling a faint tune, his stature making it so he didn’t even have to stoop.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been crawling, but your back, shoulders and knees were barking in protest. The air was cool, but you were still dripping in sweat. You almost asked him how much farther when the sounds of progress shifted, and you realized the tunnel opened up ahead.

Crawling the last of the way, you stood as you felt the tunnel end, stretching your arms and popping your stiff joints into place.

Q’oh moved away, and you could faintly see in the dark his flashlight bouncing around as he looked for… a light switch. 

One by one, lights flared up, illuminating the space – and the ship at the centre of it.

“Ship,” Q’oh said, waving his hand at it.

“I see that,” you said, not understanding what you were looking at. The ship resembled an A-wing starfighter, but the colours were different; shades of black and grey instead of the red and white of the resistance. “Where did you get this?”

“Built,” Q’oh chirped at you, clearly annoyed. “Go. Kaith.”

For probably the first time in your life, you were speechless. You had no smartass comment or attitude filled reply. Shock had removed your brain and left a monkey banging a set of cymbals in its place. 

Finally coming to your senses, you turned to Q’oh, asking the question you should have asked at the very beginning. “How did you know I could fly a ship?”

Q’oh simply tapped his finger to his temple and… did he just wink at you?

“Go,” he said again, walking up behind you and pushing at your calf towards the ship. Your legs moved automatically, approaching the ship with reverent awe. The door to the cockpit opened as you approached.

Running a finger along the sleek metal of the body, you could almost feel it purr under your touch. Everything about this ship screamed fast.

Climbing up the side of the ship, you sat in the pilot’s chair, the controls humming to life, lights flickering into awareness. Q’oh had followed up you the ship, and now stood just above the control panel, pointing at a dark button that was the only thing unfamiliar to you in the very familiar ship.

“Hide,” he said, a shit eating grin on his face.

“You outfitted an A-wing with cloaking technology?” You couldn’t keep the awe off your voice.

Q’oh pulled out from his pocket a folded piece of paper. On it was a hastily drawn map of the Night Buzzard. He must have done this sometime between hearing the gossip and you finding him in his workstation. He used a short finger to point at the top of the ship, dragging down and over to a rectangular shape that rested on the side of the ship. He tapped on it twice, waiting until you nodded that you understood.

He then pointed to another button you didn’t recognize, so small you missed it the first time you’d looked at the control panel.

“Go fast. Save Kaith,” he said, nodding to you again before hopping down off the ship, not explaining what the button did.

You should have been smart – asked Q’oh what he wanted in exchange for the ship, the information. But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when this could mean the difference between life and death for both you and Kaith. Giving him a wave, you began running your hands along the controls, the ship reacting to your touch, beginning to vibrate as the engines engaged.

Q’oh pushed another button in the wall, and the roof slowly opened. Dust, dirt, leaves, and other debris began to fall as you closed the canopy. When the panels in the roof had pulled apart enough for you to get through, you spared one last look at Q’oh, offering him a genuine smile. A second later, you pushed the button to launch you up, grabbing the controls as the ship ascended into the stars so fast you knew there was no way anyone on the ground would see you leaving.

You broke through the atmosphere in moments. The stars were as beautiful as you remembered them, each one twinkling at you in welcome. The ship was hovering, and though you knew you needed to rush, you wanted to take a minute to appreciate being back in the vastness of space. Of the freedom. Especially since you were going on what Poe had so eloquently called a suicide mission.

You took a deep breath – your first one in months – and set the coordinates to Starkiller base, though you hoped you’d collide with the Night Buzzard before then. The ship took off, so fast it pushed you back into the seat. You reached forward, flicking the switch to cloak your ship, relaxing back into the seat as it carried you to your destination. You didn’t look back to the Resistance base as it disappeared behind you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for our rescue mission! Let's hope nothing goes wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes my use of the term rats is intentional <3
> 
> Chapters 5, 6 & 7 were originally written as one big chapter, but I broke them down into 3 since they clocked in at almost 5k words total.

You’d been in the ship for enough hours you were beginning to worry you’d never catch up to the Night Buzzard when you saw it in the distance, its hulking dark shape blotting out the stars. You checked to make sure the cloaking function was still activated as you flew closer and closer, aiming the ship so that you’d fly to the right of the Night Buzzard to where Q’oh had indicated. The rectangular area became clear – it was so small, fitting the ship through it would be like threading a needle, but you aimed, trusting that Q’oh knew what he was talking about. 

Your knuckles clenched hard as you approached, slowly guiding the ship into the gap. You heard no alarms, no sirens to indicate that they were aware the ship was being breached. Once inside the gap, the ship hovered, and you weren’t sure what to do now.  
You’d been hovering for a few minutes now, and you were getting worried you’d be discovered. 

“The friggen button you idiot,” you muttered to yourself, pushing the small button Q’oh had pointed to before you’d left the resistance base. Instantly a door slid open, your small ship barely fitting through. The door closed behind you, and you landed beside another ship that looked similar to yours. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking at the ship beside you. This space was clearly not meant for two ships, though yours did fit. But what had you shocked was the fact the ships didn’t look similar – they were identical. How in the hell did Q’oh get his hands on an Imperial ship? No wonder you had been able to approach the ship undetected and get on so easily.

You opened the canopy, climbing out of the ship and jumping onto the ground. The sound of the metal floor against your boots reverberated around the small space and you cringed, though still no alarms sounded. You scoured the space for any weapons, but came up empty. Of course.

The air vent was on the wall half obscured behind a cabinet. You pushed it aside, getting on your hands and knees to pull it from the wall. For the second time that day, you found yourself crawling through a tight, cramped space, your muscles already barking in protest from earlier. You crawled aimlessly through the air vent, stopping every so often to peer through the grates. The ship was mostly empty. You didn’t come across a single other person as you trudged onwards.

Boisterous laughter came tumbling down the vent and you froze, controlling your panting breathing so that you wouldn’t be detected. You crawled forward slowly until you were at the grate that led to where a group of men were playing cards and ripping on each other. You couldn’t see much through the grate, the slats so close together, but you saw two of them walk off together while the others whistled after them tauntingly. You continued crawling away, looking for any sign of Kaith or her x-wing.

The breath left your lungs when you hit a dead end. The air vent had looped you up, down, and all around the ship, but there had been no sign of Kaith. You felt tears prick your eyes from frustration. Where the hell are you, Kaith?

Taking a risk, you pushed the grate off the wall, climbing out behind it. On the ground in front of you was a hatch. It couldn’t be…

You peered down into the glass, seeing the small chamber below with a closed X-wing at the bottom. “Holy shit, holy shit,” you breathed. It was Kaith. It had to be.

Without a thought, you started pulling on the hatch, an alarm sounding immediately, red lights flashing. You scrambled back into the air vent, pulling the grate behind you. Less than a minute later, two sets of footsteps approached. 

“What the fuck is this Ushar?” You hear Kylo Ren ask. You knew it was him from the way his voice sounded through the mask. You shook slightly. If violence had a sound, that was it.

A panel was pulled open on the wall, Ushar pressing a few buttons and shutting off the alarm.

“Faulty wiring, prisoner trying to escape. It doesn’t matter. The hatch can only be opened from outside. They aren’t going anywhere.”

Both men walked away. You waited five minutes. Ten. Twenty. Finally, you eased the grate off, staring down the hall to make sure no one heard you before coming the rest of the way out.

Smarter this time – you had to be smarter.

Opening the panel you’d seen Ushar access, you stared at the button, knobs and dials. Nothing was labelled. Fuck. You tried not to panic. You could do this. It was like flying a ship. Pushing buttons that just made sense, you poked and prodded and turned dials and flicked switches. Nothing was happening, but no alarms were sounding either, so that was something. There had to be some combination that would do what you needed. You continued trying every combination, feeling the time passing with more frantic concern.

You flipped a switch at the same time you turned a dial and a mechanical hum stopped. You hadn’t even realized how loud it had been until it stopped. You tested the hatch, ready to dart back into the vent if the alarm sounded… but the hatch opened with ease. Climbing down the ladder, you felt your heart racing in your chest. Your rescue mission was working. You were going to save Kaith.

You reached the last step of the ladder, jumping down the rest of the way. The X-wing was silent, the canopy closed. You approached, heart hammering in your chest. Your palms were so sweaty by the time you reached the ship, they slipped off the metal without gaining purchase as you tried to climb up the side. 

Wiping your hands on your pants, you tried again, climbing up the side of the ship, fingers trembling as you reached the top. The canopy was so badly cracked and damanged you couldn't see inside. You flipped the release switch, the canopy popping open. Your heart crashed to your feet, a knot in your throat so tight you could barely swallow. The person in the cockpit, passed out with a bleeding wound to the head, was not Kaith, but Miralores. You’d never spoken to him before, but knew he was a nice enough guy. 

Maybe it made you a terrible person, but right now you didn’t care. You would give anything to have his body be the one floating in space, blown to pieces, and Kaith here with you.

Regardless of your complicated feelings, you weren’t a total monster. You couldn’t just leave him to die. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you shook him, fingers digging into the rough material of his jacket. He started to rouse, though not enough to get moving.

“Get up,” you said, urging him to move. “Come on you idiot, wake up.”

You slapped his face, wincing as his head recoiled. Too hard. 

“Sorry, shit, sorry. Just, wake up. Get up. Come on,” you said, unbuckling his harness and forcing him to a standing position. He looked disoriented but focused more as he stood, swaying dangerously. You helped support his weight as best you could, half dragging him out of the X-wing, your muscles trembling under his weight as he relied on you too much for balance.

It wasn’t easy, but you made it onto the ground. Now to get up the ladder. Fuck. You were never going to make it. Miralores was barely shuffling along, clutching his head in one hand and using his other to rest his body weight on you. He wasn’t exceedingly tall, but his weight was more than you would normally be able to hold up.

You pushed him the final step to the ladder, encouraging him to start climbing. He must have sensed your urgency, pulling himself up much faster than you could have hoped. You both made it to the top, urging him to continue crawling into the air vent. He fit – barely. You started to cover your tracks, closing the panel on the wall. You tried lifting the hatch, but the alarm started blaring, the red light flashing. There must have been a different dial and knob configuration for closing the hatch.

Abandoning your plan to cover your tracks, you shoved Miralores forward, grabbing the grate and sealing it up. His progress was slow, but you pushed him onwards. You didn’t hear them approach, but you knew they were there when the alarm stopped.

“This is impossible,” you heard Ushar say.

“As you told me the last time the alarm went off.” You paused. You assumed it was Kylo again, but he sounded so different – you realized with a start he didn’t have his mask on, and you were hearing his real voice.

“And that is still true. The only way to open this hatch is from inside the ship. Which means either one of the Knights opened the hatch or…”

“Or there is an intruder on my ship.” Kylo finished.

“The prisoner and the intruder couldn’t have gotten far. Likely doing what rats do- crawling through the air vents. Send Cardo on a hunting mission. He never comes back empty handed.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want. Cardo would crush their skulls before I had the chance to take what I need from their minds.”

Ushar only snorted in return, slamming the control panel shut. “I need a larger access point. I’m heading to the Command Centre. Time to flush out the rats.”

Their voices had trailed off, getting quieter as they walked away. You and Miralores continued along the air vent, though his movements were becoming slower and more laboured. 

You were about halfway to the ship when Miralores slipped, his arms giving out. The sound of his body echoed so loudly, you weren’t surprised when the grate between you was ripped away. A blinding pressure radiated into your temples, the pain so intense that you pushed your hands into your head to seek relief.

Invisible hands wrapped around you, tugging you through the opening of the air vent, Miralores already pulled through and laying in a heap on the ground. You fell ungracefully beside him, your ankle twisting the wrong way as you tried to catch yourself on the fall.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the pressure stopped, and you scrambled to your feet, trying not to wince at the pain in your ankle. You were pretty sure it was sprained. But you grit your teeth, forcing your chin to raise to look into the eyes of the men standing before you. You knew this was the end for you – you just hoped that whatever was after this life, you would find your way back to Kaith.

You wanted to look each man in the eye, show your bravery, but your eyes snagged on the man standing in the centre, and didn’t look away. He was taller than the others by at least a few inches, and broader too. His dark hair hung to his shoulder in sweat damp waves. His face was textured, more interesting than the artificially smooth lines of the mask you knew he usually wore. But what struck you most was the violence rippling off every line of him. From the hateful line of his mouth, to the blood splattered on his tank – his blood, if the ripped apart skin on his knuckles was any indication – he was a man who was born and raised to kill. His fists clenched and unclenched as he stared at you, and you knew that your death by his hands would not be peaceful. Kylo was every bit the terrifying monster you imagined.

A few more men walked into the room, their presence overwhelming in the small space. But still, you hadn’t taken your eyes off Kylo. So it was a surprise when you heard your name – from the last voice you ever expected to hear again.

Kylo's focus remained on you while the knights all turned at once to look at one of the men who walked in – Ap'lek. You knew him. Your body begun shaking anew.

“You can’t kill her,” Ap'lek said, continuing to walk towards you until he was standing only arms length in front of you.

“And why is that?” Kylo said, finally turning his hateful glare from you and inflicting it on Ap'lek instead.

“Because that’s my sister,” he said, lifting his long axe from his side and pointing it directly at your chest, “and her death is mine.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've really gotten ourselves into a mess. Let's see how we get out of this one.

The pure, unfiltered anger he felt staring at the dream walker was unparalleled. He knew she’d injured her ankle, tracking the small movements in her face that gave away her pain, the way she supported herself on her left leg more than her right.

He expected her to look away or show some sign of recognition. Instead, she just stared at him, through him, in full defiance. More – he should be doing more than just staring at her. Strike her down. End her measly life. But she was a weakness, one he needed to understand in order to root that weakness out entirely.

He wouldn’t kill her now. He’d find out what she knew, how she did it. Learn to protect himself from others like her – if there even were others – and then he would crush the life from her.

The rest of the Knights entered the room, but he could not – would not - look away from her. Waiting for her to break his stare, back down. Everybody cowered from him eventually. It was something he was used to. So rarely would someone make direct eye contact. No one made the mistake of making eye contact for more than a second before flinching away from him. Yet this nobody, this person of no consequence, refused to back down, meeting his glare with one of her own. It infuriated him to no end, his fists clenching with barely contained fury.

Ap’lek sauntered into the room with the others, a cocky stride that faltered as recognition lit his awareness. A confusing mix of emotions blasted through their shared mental connection, so far outside of what Kylo had come to expect from the knight, his disposition straightforward and focused. Now his focus was shaky, unsure. Though it was solidifying the closer he approached.

As though seeing It from outside his body, he watched in his peripherals as Ap’lek walked forward. Her name left his mouth, and Kylo continued to stare, waiting for the spark of recognition her name would bring. It didn’t come. Her nostrils flared, the only sign that she recognized his Knight.

“You can’t kill her,” Ap’lek said, moving to stand in front her and partially obscuring Kylo’s view. The dream walker’s body began shaking, though he could see she was attempting to lock her muscles down to hide it from them.

“And why is that?” Kylo asked, controlling every violent feeling coursing through his veins as he turned to face Ap’lek, livid he’d been forced to break contact with her stare first. As soon as he did, he felt her eyes go directly to Ap’lek, the shaking more forceful now.

“Because that’s my sister,” he said, and for the first time in a long time Kylo was caught off guard. He watched as Ap’lek lifted his long axe and pointed it directly at her, “and her death is mine.”

Kylo wasn’t sure who moved first, him or the dream walker. In only a few beats, he was standing in front of Ap’lek, his back to her and his chest pushing into the sharp edge of Ap’lek’s axe. The dream walker had stepped backwards as he’d moved, and she was now pressed against the wall, nudging the unconscious rebel with her injured foot. He used the Force to push her foot away, immobilizing her. It was the second time he’d used the Force to bend her to his will. It took more effort than it should have – both times. But Kylo would figure that out later. For now he had to stop his blood thirsty knight from slicing off her damn head before he’d gotten the answers he’d needed. This whole thing - from the first time he’d entered her dream all those months ago to hunting every rebel camp or outpost he could find looking for her – had been a clusterfuck. And now that he finally had her in his clutches, he wasn’t letting Ap’lek’s family drama interfere. 

“The dream walker’s death will only be at your hands if I will it,” Kylo said, jaw clenched tight as he snapped out the words. “Walk away. We’ll deal with this later.”

At the edge of his awareness, he felt her head cock to the side. Too late, he realized he should not have shown his hand, that he knew who she was. Being unsettled by her was causing him to make stupid, sloppy mistakes. It angered him, and he channeled that anger into this confrontation with his knight.

Ap’lek didn’t move, the battle of wills between the two of them not allowing it. The rest of the Knights shifted uneasily, looking between Kylo, Ap’lek and the intruder, each of them realizing Ap’lek had picked a losing fight. He could sense his Knights struggling to comprehend what was happening. Not that he could blame them. Her being the dream walker was enough of a shock – the dream walker being related to one of them left them feeling confused, especially given his violent reaction. None of them had family to speak of, and instantly the revelation that he did set him apart as other. Kylo ground his teeth together. Not only was she disrupting him, she was going to disrupt the relationships between the Knights too.

Kylo stepped forward, forcing the tip of Ap’lek’s axe to push deeper into his chest. Under no circumstances would he allow Ap’lek to reign victorious over this confrontation. Blood bloomed from where the axe cut clean through his tank and pierced the skin above his heart. He continued leaning forward, blood staining the area, leaving Ap’lek with two choices. Back down, or continue to injure Kylo, who he’d sworn to protect at cost of his own life.

Ap’lek was many things; arrogant, proud, brutal, even a touch sadistic. But he wasn’t stupid. And he certainly didn’t have a death wish. 

He pulled back the axe, letting it fall to the floor, the sound of metal on metal crashing around the small space. It was a surrender – and a warning. He would not let this go easily. He shoved past the other Knights with his axe dragging noisily behind him, the rest of them following him out. Ushar stopped to grab the unconscious rebel, Kuruk helping him carry him to the containment room on the ship. 

Alone, Kylo released the Force hold on the dream walker. The energy that he’d expended to restrain her had been considerable. He hadn’t wanted his Knights to see how much he struggled to hold her down. Another reminder that she made him weak. And weaknesses needed to be destroyed. 

“How did you get on my ship?” He asked, crossing his arms as he assessed her. Now that they were alone, or perhaps it was Ap’lek’s departure, she’d relaxed some. Though she was still throwing hateful daggers at him from her eyes. She stuck her chin out, crossing her own arms over her chest in defiance. Well if she wanted to play that game…

Kylo speared the Force towards her mind, prepared to take what he wanted whether she cooperated or not. He met resistance and he pushed into her, harder, deeper. She began to tremble, arms moving to clutch her head and torso bending forward protectively. But no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn’t penetrate the barrier to her mind. Though it was certainly causing her discomfort. She was gritting her teeth now, trying not to cry out in pain. Good. Let her suffer. She’d inflicted enough suffering on him in the last few months she more than deserved it.

He pulled back, her hands dropping from her head and resting on her knees as she sucked in deep breaths. He was mildly impressed; most men he’d interrogated caved at the pain, sobbing as they let him take whatever he needed as he rifled through their minds. But she just continued gritting her teeth. Interesting. Perhaps the dream walking ability afforded her a certain level of protection. 

“It is in your best interest to cooperate,” Kylo said, stepping closer to her and placing his hands against the wall on either side of her head. She still didn’t look away. The anger he felt was almost irrational. He lifted his right hand, pulling back and thrusting it forward hard enough that his fist dented the metal wall and echoed loudly in the room. She didn’t so much as flinch. 

“It’s in your best interest to let me go, or I’ll tear you to pieces,” she spat at him. It was the first thing she’d said, and he wanted to chuckle at her. She was an insignificant fleck in his story, a minor obstacle to destroy like all obstacles that came before her, and those that would come after. 

“Ap’lek wants you dead. If I let you go he’ll just hunt you down,” he said, smirking as she frowned with the knowledge he was right. “The safest place for you is here. You might want to consider that when deciding how cooperative to be.”  
Her eyes cast downwards for a moment, eyeing the blooming blood across his chest. One side of her mouth began to quirk into what looked like the ghost of a smile, but she caught herself, locking back on his eyes, the anger and defiance back in full force.

Kylo leaned in closer for a moment, a final attempt to intimidate her. When it didn’t work, he pushed off the wall, turning his back on her and striding from the room. He flicked two fingers on his left hand, the metal grate for the air vent slamming back into place and the doors to the room hissing as they sealed shut. Ushar was back from dropping off the prisoner, standing guard. 

“Quite the attitude on her,” Ushar said, hiding any emotion from his face. But he couldn’t hide the tenor of his thoughts, the amusement he felt at seeing the dream walker talk back to Kylo in a way he wasn’t used to. 

“We’ll see how long that attitude lasts once we’re back,” Kylo said. They were almost at Starkiller Base, where he’d be able to take his time peeling away the protected layers of her mind until all was laid bare for him. “If Ap’lek comes near her, incapacitate him. I won’t have his bullshit messed family fucking this up.”

“A sister,” Ushar said in disbelief, shaking his head. “What are the fucking odds.”

Kylo didn’t answer, walking away to get ready for their arrival. He was still bloodied, and needed to get his helmet and cloak on before departing the ship. He was almost around the corner when he saw Ushar slip into the dream walker’s room. Not that he could blame him. Though it was clouded by his raging anger, Kylo felt the same curiosity he could sense from Ushar- the potential to learn more about someone he’d considered a friend for a long, long time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushar is a nosey busybody, but you've got a temper.

The doors slid shut after Kylo Ren, the sound ringing with finality. Alone in the room, you looked around for a way to escape. The air vent cover had been slammed so thoroughly back on that even pulling at it with all your weight didn’t make it budge, though deep lines creased the skin on your fingers from the pressure of trying to yank it off. The rest of the room was smooth metal panels running along the walls and floor, save for the dent by your head from Kylo’s fist and the deep, trailing gouge along the ground from Ap’lek’s axe.

Ap’lek.

Your blood chilled in your veins. In all the ships in all the pockets of space, what were the fucking odds. So much time had passed since you last saw him, you’d stopped looking over your shoulder anytime you felt eyes on you. Almost forgotten the layer of fear that encompassed you when you thought of your older brother. A person meant to protect you, guide you, teach you. Not torment you, hate you, abandon you. And especially not want you dead. Though right now, the feeling was mutual, even if you knew it was more to do with self preservation than hatred. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in you to hate him.

You were glad Kylo has stepped in to stop him from delivering your death blow, but that protection only extended until he got what he wanted. You were dead no matter what. Perhaps it would have just been easier to let Ap’lek kill you all those years ago, instead of fleeing your home in the dead of night. Thinking back to that time was painful, sweat slicking your palms in a fear response to the memories you worked so hard to push down deep. You’d spent years on the run before falling in with the rebels, and that life had been, well better than death, but still not what you wanted. It felt stupid to focus on that now but having a countdown timer on your life pretty much guaranteed these depressing ruminations.

There was also the weird title he’d given you, one that had made every knight in the small room do a double take.

Dream Walker.

He’d called you that, and all the knights had looked at you as though that meant something important. They had to be mistaken- you were no one, nothing. Plus you had no idea what it meant, but if it offered you protection for another day, perhaps you could still find a way out. Though with escape from this room currently impossible, and your separation from your hidden ship looming, the chances of getting out alive were looking slim at best.

The garbled sound of talking through the walls brought you back to the present. The conversation ended abruptly, followed by thundering footsteps headed away from your temporary cell. When the last of the footsteps faded, the door hissed open, one of the Knights from earlier stepping in.

You were surprised by his appearance, though you hadn’t had a chance to evaluate all the knights yet, your focus when they’d first entered the room oscillating between Kylo & Ap’lek. He seemed older than Kylo by at least a few years. Everything from his full facial hair, hardened eyes and scar-flecked skin were a rich brown.

None of that was what surprised you. It was the long, jagged scar that ran from his right temple down the side of his face and along his cheek, ending at his upper lip. The tail end of the scar was covered by his moustache. The injury was clearly an old one, the skin fully healed and the scar a puckered, dark line. It pulled at his mouth slightly, forcing his face into a permanent sneer. Yet somehow, it all added up to a rather attractive man.

You shook your head slightly, averting your eyes. Attractive? What was wrong with you? This man – no, monster – was deadly, and you’d be stupid to forget it.

You looked back at him – and he was looking at you, his eyes boring into yours. It was an unnerving feeling, as though he was trying to pick apart and flush out your secrets. You felt your quick anger bubble up at the situation- that you’d been caught, that you were injured, that you had no means of escape, that Kaith- no you couldn’t think of her right now. It was too late though, and the emotions you’d been trying so hard to suppress burst to the surface in frustration.

“Grab a datapad and take a photo, it’ll last longer,” you spat at him, refusing to show him a lick of fear, thankful your voice had maintained its anger without quivering.

He said nothing for a beat, his expression unchanged, when he suddenly burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the small space. It was jarring enough it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“You really are his sister,” he said, another chuckle sliding past his lips. “I’m Ushar.”

You almost expected him to offer his hand in greeting, but he just kept staring at you with a look of amusement. A lot of vitriol popped into your head, insults to hurl at the knight- Ushar. But you clamped your lips shut. You couldn’t afford to keep losing control of your emotions, even if you wanted to take every piece of your pain and anger and weaponize it against anyone who stood between you and freedom. But you didn’t know these men, what they were capable of. If they were anything like Ap’lek, they were all sadistic monsters, and angering them could not mean good things for you. Even if Kylo didn’t want you dead, as you’d learned long ago, there were many things worse than death.

“Do you have a name?” he asked, still amused from your outburst. You kept your mouth firmly clamped shut. “That’s alright, you don’t have to tell me. Kylo will know soon enough. I suppose you won’t tell me about Ap’lek. What he was like as a kid, why he’s got such a chip on his shoulder, or why he’s the biggest fucking ass I’ve ever met.”

You said nothing, lips still pressed together, but your right eyebrow crept up your face without permission. Ushar clocked the movement, his lips twitching with amusement. The scar was much less menacing when he was smiling.

Ushar took a step closer to you, forcing you to take a step back. He did this until your back was against the wall. You bristled at the dominance he was exerting, eyeing the knight for a weakness. Your ankle still throbbed so you knew you couldn’t kick him – or even hold your weight on that ankle to balance – so you did the only logical thing. Ushar stepped right up to you, smirking like a cat, as you swiftly brought your knee up, directly into his groin.

It wasn’t a particularly clean hit, but it caught him by surprise and he stumbled back, bent over at the waist and groaning.

“Genetics,” was all you said to him, lacing your voice with sweet sarcasm.

Ushar slowly straightened, all the amusement and lighthearted nature gone from his face. It changed him entirely, and the scar took on an otherworldly quality that made your hands shake. Here – here was a Knight of Ren. A deadly battle warrior honed in combat. And you’d just made the stupid mistake of pissing him off.

He looked you up and down with disdain, turning on his heel to leave. You thanked the stars he didn’t crush your skull then and there. As he stepped through the automatic door, he looked back, his gaze so penetrating you didn’t dare move a muscle. Perhaps it had been a mistake, lashing out at someone who hadn’t wanted to kill you, at least yet.

“By the time Master Ren is done with you, we’ll see how much of that attitude is left.” With that he stepped forward, allowing the door to hum shut. You slid towards the floor to await the return of Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lengthy break. I took time to focus on writing instead of posting, but now I have a cache of chapters so I can update regularly again. Thank you for reading my story!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Starkiller Base.

Kylo Ren donned his cloak, fastening the straps and tugging on his leather gloves. He flexed his fingers, the heavy weight of his clothes and the tight stretch of the leather over his knuckles centring him. At last he secured his helmet, relishing the sound as it clicked into place, ready to face what awaited him. His chest throbbed where Ap’lek’s axe had dug into his flesh. Weakness. He balled his fist, slamming it into his chest to focus in on the pain, allowing it to harden him. He wouldn’t allow anything to distract him, or weaken him. Again. Again. Again. Over and over he crushed his fist into the wound, his knuckles twisting slightly after each hit to maximize the pain. The wound tore open, worse than the damage from the axe, blood oozing and soaking into his black tunic. The cloak mostly covered the growing patch of blood, but he found he couldn’t quite care even if it didn’t.

His chest throbbing, he finally stopped beating the wound, the relief instant. Though it was nothing compared to the feeling he would get of ending the Dream Walker’s feeble life. Knowing that would still be a long way off, he smacked his chest once more with a grunt. It eased none of his frustration.

The engines hummed louder as the ship began its descent. He focused on reigning in the violent thoughts that were pelting him, clamouring for the death of the Dream Walker. Soon. He would take care of that problem soon. For now he had to focus on the welcoming party that was sure to be waiting for him in the hangar. Fucking Hux, the uptight prick. He would be there with Storm Troopers in tow, ready to throw around the measly amount of power he had to find out what Kylo has been up to. Hiding the Dream Walker would be impossible, so Hux would soon know what Kylo had been pursuing so relentlessly all these months. The man was becoming more irritating as time went by, and if Kylo hadn’t been under strict orders, he would have crushed him underfoot a long time ago.

The ship lurched forward slightly, and Kylo caught the tenor of Kuruk’s thoughts. He was trying to land and Vicrul was making it … difficult. Kylo blocked them out, marching towards the room that contained the prisoner. Ushar was standing outside, his face halfway between rage and frustration. His conversation with her must have gone exactly as one would assume. Apparently, she really did have a mouth on her. As Kylo got closer, Ushar’s thoughts were focused on the aching in his balls. Kylo couldn’t help the smirk as he approached.

“You let her get a knee to your groin? Need more combat training?” He asked, the sarcastic tone losing a bit of its effect with the voice modulator on his mask.

Ushar managed to look even angrier, storming off without a word to get changed before Kylo could say anything else.

Kylo walked into the holding room, finding the Dream Walker sitting on the ground in an uncoordinated, angry heap. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out as she looked him up and down.

“Stand,” he said, the order clear in his tone as he approached her.

She got to her feet, seeming to have listened subconsciously. Before she could snap out of her fear and cause trouble, Kylo pushed into her mind, using a considerable amount of strength – much more than normal – and forced her into unconsciousness. The effect was immediate, her eyes closing and body going limp. Kylo bothered to catch her before she hit the ground, carrying her towards the exit of the ship.

He’d considered keeping her awake to meet Hux, to test that volatile temper of hers. Though he would have enjoyed watching his face redden in thinly controlled anger, the risk of her spilling his secrets was too great. So instead he headed through the ship, her limp form bobbing in his arms.

The rest of the knights had gathered in full gear and masks, except Kuruk who was doing a much better job of landing the ship smoothly now that Vicrul was here instead. Kylo did his best to ignore Ap’lek, though the knight’s thoughts turned increasingly violent the longer he stared at the Dream Walker, hitting a point where his hand twitched forward as though he would try to strike her down right here, despite Kylo’s explicit orders not too. Ap’lek was a problem he would have to deal with. And soon.

Kylo braced himself, powerful legs bending slightly and his thighs tensing to help him stay upright as the ship finally landed with expert precision. The knights stood behind him, fanned out in order, the space for Kuruk left empty. The ship door started to lower with a hiss, the hydraulic smoke blasting and obscuring their view. By the time the door fully descended into a ramp, the smoke had cleared and Kuruk was standing with them.

As one, Kylo and the Knights of Ren stepped forward off the ship. It was an impressive display, one that had cowed many enemies. Hux however, just stood there with his arms crossed, at least a dozen Storm Troopers standing in organized lines behind him.

Kylo slowed as he approached Hux, the knights following his lead. The merits of killing Hux where he stood played on a loop. If it wasn’t for Snoke’s orders…

“Who is she,” Hux sneered, barely offering her a glance.

Kylo remained silent, though he bristled at the tone. Hux may be under protection orders from Snoke, but it did not mean he had any rights to Kylo, the knights, or their plans.

“Get out of my way,” Kylo said, stepping forward.

Hux did no such thing, lifting his chin and doing his best to stare at Kylo down his nose, despite being much shorter.

“You think you can bring an enemy onto our base and not inform a General? This goes beyond, even for you. I will have no choice but to report this transgression to Supreme Leader Snoke.”

“What makes you think this isn’t a mission for Snoke? Because you don’t know about it? By all means, run off to him and tell him what he already knows,” Kylo said, gritting his teeth as he willed Hux to believe the lie. “My only request is that I be present so I can see your punishment firsthand for wasting his time.”

Kylo and Hux faced each either, neither one willing to move. He could sense the impatience from his knights at the stand off. More than once he’d had to restrain them from ending the man’s life themselves. But Kylo knew how to play the game, to keep Hux distracted and working to his advantage. Even if Kylo understood all to well the desire to spill his blood. Often.

With one last glance at the Dream Walker, Hux sneered at Kylo as he turned on his heel, walking away with the Storm Troopers marching in tow.

“Fucking prick,” Vicrul grumbled from Kylo’s right.

Kylo didn’t acknowledge it, though he certainly felt the same way. They exited the hangar and headed towards their quarters. The long hallways were mostly empty, no doubt as a result of the gossip mill announcing their arrival. The few workers they did pass melted into shadows and doorways to avoid the infamous wrath of Kylo Ren and his knights. No one looked too long at the Dream Walker, still limp in his arms.

He felt the subtle movement as she began to stir, though she stayed limp, eyes closed, pretending to still be unconscious. They rounded a final corner, coming to a large black door, lit on either side with red lights that cast this part of the hallway in contrast to the rest of the facility. Vicrul stepped forward, removing his glove and pressing his hand against a patch of wall that was a dark glass. It was mostly camouflaged in the dark metal panelling of the rest of the ship. The door slid open with a hiss, Vicrul stepping back to allow Kylo to walk in first.

This part of the facility was entirely designated to them. No one, not even Hux, had access to this sector. The hand scanner beside the door was keyed to only allow Kylo and the knights to enter. Inside, they were protected from prying eyes and were free to do as they pleased. Their sector had a training room, common area, weapons room, and private living quarters for each of them.

When Kylo had first ordered development of this space, Hux had a fit. Arguments about taking up too much space on the facility when there was plenty of liveable planet were all wholly ignored by Kylo. He wanted to be near his ship, and to keep his knights close by, so he went ahead and relocated the 26 occupants of the area and brought in a team to complete the renovations.

The knights now dispersed, each walking down a different hallway that would end in a door to their quarters. One thing he’d ensured was each knight having a completely separate area from one another they could retreat to. After the cramped and ramshackle way they’d lived as apprentices, he would not force them to live like that again.

Kylo headed down his own hallway, pausing at his door for a moment until it slid open. Once inside, the door slid shut behind him and he dropped any pretence of pretending she was still unconscious.

“I know you’re awake,” he said, opening his palms where they’d been wrapped over her thighs and shoulder and dumping her into a heap on the floor. With her bad ankle she wasn’t able to do much more than shoot her hands out to cushion her fall.

“If you knew I was awake,” she seethed, glaring at him from the ground,” then why didn’t you just let me walk?”

“I have my reasons,” he said, walking away and into his closet.

He rummaged through one of the drawers, pulling out a black jumpsuit worn by First Order mechanics. It wouldn’t come close to fitting her, but she had to get out of resistance clothing. He loathed to admit it, but he needed her alive for a while longer and putting a “resistance” target on her back wasn’t the best idea. Though he doubted anyone could even tell her clothes were resistance, as stained and tattered as they were.

The Dream Walker was no longer sitting when he returned to the room. She was standing by the kitchen, a knife in hand, holding it out in front of her.

“Change into this,” he said, tossing the jumpsuit over a chair. He headed to the door, looking back over his shoulder as the door hissed open. With a flick of his fingers the knife went flying across the room, the speed increasing until it burrowed itself into the wall. “And don’t do anything stupid.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left alone in Kylo's room, of course you're going to snoop. And manage to piss him off more. Repeatedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes non-consensual choking and a hit to the face (Kylo to reader). Proceed with caution if this isn't within your comfort zone.

“What the fuck,” you whispered under your breath into the now empty room.

Kylo Ren had left you alone in his quarters with a change of clothes, barely pausing as he used the Force to send the knife you’d found careening into the wall. You hadn’t really expected to use the knife against him, not when escaping this room would just lead you to the knights, and no ship. But he hadn’t even considered you mildly a threat. You were … a little offended.

The room you were in was sparse. Nothing in here indicated it was occupied by a person with any sort of personality, family, friends, hobbies, interests. Everything had a function – a bed, a side table with a simple lamp, a table and chair on which the clothes Kylo had left you were draped. You walked over, fingers closing over the rough material of the jumpsuit and holding it up. It was clearly meant for someone much taller than you, but you couldn’t help but be thankful for it. The clothing you were wearing now had seen better days; grime, sweat, and rips from crawling through underground tunnels and the ship’s air vents had made your resistance uniform unsalvageable.

Kylo had said not to be stupid, but he didn’t say you couldn’t snoop. Or use the shower. And you planned to do both.

Starting in his closet, you looked through his drawers, each one filled with neatly folded and organized black clothes. Socks, underwear, tank tops, tunics, pants. One drawer contained the only non-black clothing- white tank tops that had rips, cuts and tears, and even the occasional faded blood stain. You grabbed a pair of black socks, black underwear and a black tank top from the drawers and added them to a pile on the bed with the jumpsuit. You wouldn’t focus on the fact you were rifling through your captor’s underwear drawer, or that you would soon be wearing them.

You returned to the closet, limping slightly. Your ankle was feeling better than before, though it was still tender when you put your weight on it. You headed to the back of the closet, looking through the hanging clothes. Mostly cloaks and jackets that all looked the same, but on closer inspection each had a subtle difference; extra compartments, weapons holders, hidden panels. You dug through the back, looking for a box of sentimental items or something with any personality, or better yet a weapon, but found nothing. There were also no visible vents in here, your hope of escaping from this room looking bleak.

You smelled a waft of a foul odour and realized with a start it was you. A shower was definitely in order. Grabbing the pile of clothes, you headed to the small bathroom and looked for a lock, but if there was one you couldn’t see it. In the confined space, you were even more aware of your smell and decided you needed the shower more than the ability to lock him out. So you set the water to as hot as you could tolerate, peeled off your resistance uniform, and stepped under the stream.

The second the water hit you, a rush of emotion burst to the surface as though it had been just sitting there, waiting for you to acknowledge it. Tears welled up and spilled over your cheeks, a guttural sob that sounded like Kaith’s name ripping from your throat. You clasped a hand over your mouth and sunk to your knees, allowing the hot water to beat down on your skin as you fell apart.

Your best friend was dead. You weren’t sure how to live in a world where that was your reality. Kaith was all good. She was kind and funny and eager and compassionate and all the things you wanted to be, but just struggled with in a way she didn’t. She made you want to be a better person. And now that bright, beautiful life has been snuffed out by the monster holding you prisoner.

You let the tears run their course. The sadness felt endless, your heart forever chipped and damaged by her death. But you knew Kaith would be livid if you succumbed to the grief. For her you needed to pull it together and focus on getting the hell out of here.

Standing on shaky legs, you grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed yourself until you felt raw, your skin painfully clean. You did the same for your hair, watching the water finally run clear.

Leaving that shower, you felt like a different person. You tucked Kaith into a little corner of your heart, shoving the love and grief and sadness and longing in there with your memories and sealing it up tight. Anything to help you move forward and survive the day.

Opening the bathroom cabinet, you found large fluffy bath towels in, unsurprisingly, black. You dried yourself off quickly and got dressed. You did your best with the clothes-tying a knot in the tank top and rolling the arms and legs of the jumpsuit, but it barely helped. You were drowning in fabric. You weren’t sorry to stuff the ruined Resistance clothes into the small waste basket. Good riddance.

Prepared to continue snooping, you stepped out of the bathroom, your legs locking and a startled sound squeezing past your lips. You hadn’t expected Kylo to return to the room, which was very stupid. It was his room, after all.

He was still in his full gear, the cloak draping behind him on the bed where he sat. His helmet was on, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his eyes boring into you.

The silence stretched on, and it was a conscious effort not to shift and fidget under his gaze. He wasn’t saying anything, and the longer he didn’t, the greater the chance you would fill the silence. And say something stupid.

“I’m surprised you don’t have me chained up in a dungeon or strapped to a torture table.” You could hear the words leaving your mouth, but they weren’t connected to your brain, like an out of body experience. Why would you give him ideas?

“Would you like that?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

Heat flamed your skin and you looked away from him, your gaze landing on the table where a plate of sliced cheeses, meats, bread and fresh cut vegetables sat. Your stomach made an audible sound and you skin heated again.

Kylo stood, looking towards the food – or so you assumed. It was hard to gauge with the mask on.

“Tell me about the Dream Walking. Then you can eat.”

You swallowed back your retort that you had no idea what he meant. Right now, his misconception was keeping you alive. So you chose to say nothing. Kylo took a step forward, his gloved hand raised towards you. Pain lanced through your skull, the same pain from on the ship when he’d tried to enter your mind. You pushed back, feeling the icy talons digging into your mind. Sweat beaded at your temple, your jaw ached from clenching it, and your muscles shook with tension.

The talons pulled back and you gasped in relief.

“Tell me what I want to know,” he said, hand twitching in threat of returning the talons. You couldn’t be sure through the voice modifier, but Kylo sounded strained himself, as though the talons had hurt him too. You hoped they did.

A squeeze of his fist and the pain rocked through you again, sending you to your knees with a hard thud. He was angry – more than normal – and it made him stronger. You bit back a scream but Kylo kept digging and a sound that seemed to shake the room was pulled from your throat. In that moment you felt your confusion at who he thought you were so clear, and then the pain stopped.

“You don’t know what you are,” he said, disbelief coating his voice. He paced away from you, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Across the room, he stopped pacing and lifted his hands to the releases on his helmet. It came off in one fluid movement, and he balanced it in his hands for a moment before his face crumpled in anger and he tossed it with enough force to dent the metal wall it hit. It landed on the table of food, everything clattering to the ground. Dishes broke, and food slid down the wall. A long crack fissured along the right hand side of the mask.

You flinched as he rounded on you, his chest heaving in anger. He raised his hand and before you could say anything, he ripped into your mind, and everything went black.

-

_Kylo stepped into the clearing, the smell of lemon and mint so strong it was almost overwhelming. The trees swayed in the breeze, and the birds continued their song despite his presence. And there, in the centre in the lush grass, sat the Dream Walker._

_He almost didn’t recognize her. Here, in this place, her face was peaceful, relaxed. Since her capture, her face had been cast in a permanent scowl. Kylo wasn’t sure which face he hated more._

_He crouched down in front of her, bristling as she smiled._

_“Hello again,” she cooed, her eyes never opening._

_Kylo was in no mood for niceties. “Open your eyes,” he commanded._

_The Dream Walker did not react. It was as though she hadn’t heard him at all. Unable to stop himself, Kylo sank to his knees, frustrated. He didn’t have time for this. The dreams never lasted long, and he needed answers. Grasping her shoulders, he shook her, hard enough that her head rocked with the motion. Still her face held the peaceful smile he wished to smack right off her face. So he did just that. Coiling his hand back, he struck her across the face with the back of his hand. Her head snapped backwards and she gasped, eyes fluttering open for only a moment._

_“Look at me!” He commanded, impatience and anger coalescing into a scream as he repeated the words. “Look at me!”_

_She whimpered, flinching from where his grip on her shoulders was tightening to the point of bruising. Without warning the dream fractured, cracks of black running away from them along the grass, up the trees, reaching towards the clouds. Large portions of the scenery fell into the abyss below them. The sound was deafening as the peaceful clearing fell into darkness, until only the two of them remained on a small square of grass._

_They were surrounded by a blackness so dark it felt omniscient, so similar to the darkness in Kylo’s own mind that he worried what she would see if left here too long. Not wanting to face this reality, especially as her eyes now bored into his, he did the only thing he could think of. Using all of his considerable strength, he pushed her off the square and watched her mouth open in a silent scream as she plummeted into the inky blackness below._

-

You woke up gasping for air, unable to shake the feeling of falling. It must have been a nightmare, but you couldn’t remember it. Only the sensation of gravity tugging on your limbs as you fell.

The room you were in was dark, and you waited for your eyes to adjust as your heart rate slowed. Despite having just woken, your mind was clear, the events of the day before at the forefront of your mind. You were in Kylo’s quarters, or you’d been moved after he’d ripped you from consciousness. You did an inventory for injuries, noting an ache in your jaw and tender shoulders. Otherwise you were unharmed.

Placing your hands on the ground, you were met with cold metal in every direction. It took you a moment to realize you were lying on the floor. Likely where he’d left you after using the force to knock you out. Standing slowly, mindful of your ankle, you shuffled slowly to the wall, careful not to bump into anything. You weren’t sure if Kylo was in the room, but it couldn’t hurt to use the cover of darkness to try and escape.

Your hands connected with the wall and you paused, focusing on quieting your breathing. Sliding across the wall slowly, you fumbled your way through the pitch black room. It was hard to tell if you were making any noise- you could barely hear anything over the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

After what seemed like hours, your pinky finger felt a change in texture on the wall. Gently following that trail, you recognized the doorframe. You debated the merits of opening the door. If Kylo was in the room it might wake him. If he was in the common area, he’d see you trying to escape. If you bumped into Ap’lek in the common area, he’d kill you where you stood. Every option sucked. But staying here and not trying sucked the worst.

Stepping in front of the door, you prepared to make a mad dash when it opened. You tensed, waiting... and nothing happened. You stepped to the side and back in front of the door again, putting your full weight down in case the sensor was in the floor, your ankle twinging in protest. Your heart was beating loudly as you put your hands on the side of the door to pry it open…

The room was doused in sudden illumination. You spun, your back pressed to the door. Kylo Ren was sitting up in his bed, hand on the lamp, eyes piercing you where you stood.

The sight of him in his full gear – including his cloak – laying atop the covers in a bed that didn’t look like it had been slept in, was almost comical. But between the fear coating every inch of you and the look in his eyes, you weren’t able to muster anything close to humour.

He stood slowly, pacing towards you. Why hadn’t you grabbed a knife? Something to defend yourself with? Even if it was futile, you knew you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Kylo was still prowling forward, an asp ready to strike. You held your ground, squaring your shoulders and refusing to back down. Your hands closed into fists. Expecting him to use the force again, you were surprised when his hand came up and circled around your throat. A gasp escaped your lips as he slammed you back into the wall, your teeth clattering from the impact and your breath coming in short pants as you struggled against him.

“What do you remember?” He ground out through clenched teeth. You tried to shake your head, or breathe in, anything. He loosened his grip slightly to let you talk but nothing came out. You didn’t even know what he was talking about. Anger hardened his face and he squeezed again.

On instinct you raised your hands to try to pry his fingers from your throat, but he wasn’t letting go. You could feel every ounce of hate and anger and frustration pouring out of him. Bursts of white popped behind your eyes as oxygen was being deprived from your brain, throat stinging as you desperately attempted to gulp down air.

Kylo used his free hand to grab both of yours where they were clawing at his hand around your neck, forcefully pinning them above your head. The move brought him closer to you, his grip loosening slightly and allowing you a sharp intake of breath. The relief was immediate, your lungs crying out for more.

In your weakened, dizzy state, you felt helpless as the icy feeling of him prying into your mind took over. He was rifling through your recent memories, though you tried to push him out as much as you could. Sweat was beading on his forehead and you could see how difficult you were making this for him. He pushed harder, the Force lancing pain through your skull as he dug deeper. Too hard. Too deep. You felt the moment the connection shifted, changed. No longer was it a one way invasion. For brief seconds, you saw flashes of images. A lush green space – a meadow maybe? There were trees, and you could _smell_ it. – citrus and something you couldn’t place. Your perspective was high – much higher than you were used to – and you were looking down at yourself.

The image shattered as Kylo pulled back, removing himself from your mind. You didn’t want to look at it too closely, but you could still feel a lingering connection, as though if you tugged on it hard enough you could slip back into his mind. It felt… intimate.

He squeezed again, bringing you out of your reverie with a whining gasp. The leather of his gloves made a chaffing sound as his fingers flexed around your throat. A moan slipped past your lips, and Kylo’s eyes zeroed in on your mouth. Heat flamed your cheeks, and you couldn’t believe yourself. Between the rough way he was handling you and the closeness his invasion had forged, you hadn’t realized this was turning you on, but now you couldn’t ignore the throbbing at your core that seemed to match the squeezing of his hand where it wrapped around your neck.

You didn’t know if he was repulsed or intrigued by your reaction. His eyes still hadn’t left your mouth, as though waiting for another moan. You clamped your lips shut, focusing on anything but the damp patch you could feel growing in your – well, technically _his_ underwear. The fact you were draped head to toe in his clothing only heightened your arousal.

Having his attention laser focused on you this way was intimidating – and though you hated to admit it – incredibly sexy. His body was so close to yours you could feel the heat emanating off him. You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge it before, but Kylo Ren was fucking hot. Apparently murderous serial killers did it for you. This information was concerning, especially as his hand tightened further, cutting off your ability to breathe entirely.

Right before losing consciousness, your body starting to go limp, Kylo adjusted his grip to allow a thin stream of air into your lungs, a moan exhaling past your lips in relief.

“Disgusting slut,” he said, still looking at your mouth.

A whine sounded from some awakened part of you at his words. It seemed to snap whatever leash Kylo was holding on himself, though not in a way you found yourself hoping he would. Using more strength than was necessary in your oxygen deprived state, he slammed your head backwards again into the door before throwing you to the ground.

Unable to do more than gasp for breath as you lay there, you couldn’t fight him off as he grabbed you by the back of your collar. He stood in front of the door, causing it to hiss open. He dragged you down the hallway into the common area you hadn’t seen yesterday in your attempts to feign unconsciousness. Though the space was poorly lit, you did your best to survey the space, surprised by how… comfortable it looked. Large leather chairs, a communal table that seemed big enough for all of the Knights, and soft lighting that detracted from the harsh metal floors and walls. It was a stark contrast to Kylo’s quarters.

Kylo marched down one of six other hallways, your body squeaking against the metal floors as you struggled. He pounded his fist against the door, loud enough you were sure it would wake all of the Knights. You could only pray he wasn’t at Ap’lek’s door, ready to let him end your life.

The door slid open, Ushar looking disheveled but alert. He was wearing a simple black tank top and black sleep pants, but he somehow managed to make it look menacing. Kylo tugged your collar, dragging you until you were at Ushar’s feet. He dropped you and you let yourself fall. Part of you wanted to fight back, but a larger, smarter part of you wanted you to stay as still as possible to avoid drawing more attention to yourself.

The way they were looking at each other, you were pretty sure they were having a silent conversation – or even a silent argument. You could tell when Kylo won, Ushar’s shoulders losing a bit of their tension in defeat. He looked down at you, rolling his eyes and walking back into his room. Kylo gave you one last, seething look before turning on his heel and walking away.

You didn’t move, head on a swivel as you looked toward Kylo’s retreating figure and the dark room that had swallowed any sign of Ushar. You slowly got to your knees, waiting, but when nothing happened you finished getting to your feet. Should you run? After Kylo nearly choked you to death you weren’t sure you wanted to risk it. Plus with your ankle still sore, you wouldn’t be able to run very far anyways.

The decision was made for you when you heard from inside the room Ushar’s voice as he said “I wouldn’t advise you standing in the doorway, sweetheart. He comes back and you’re done for.”

So you did the only smart thing, which was step into Ushar’s room, the door hissing shut behind you and plunging you into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now moving into mostly reader-perspective chapters, and the chapters are a bit longer (actually, more than double normal length for this fic). 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, commenting, kudos etc. It's so appreciated <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushar is tasked with babysitting you, which is a massive inconvenience on his life. Moreso cause you're a bit of a mess right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have an actor I have imagined for Ushar, if you are interested. His name is Nathan Owens. I linked the photo at the top of this chapter, for those interested.

[Ushar Photo](https://www.google.com/search?q=nathan+owens&sxsrf=ALeKk01EFwofjSXF8rcMuh3JcYFCxlHwQA:1601687861691&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj-3aWgoJfsAhUUr54KHRzKC8kQ_AUoAXoECAYQAw&biw=1920&bih=937#imgrc=TBEQtmXS-5TD4M)

“So what did you do to get him into an even worse mood than normal?” Ushar asked, flicking on a light beside his bed.

Your eyes took a minute to adjust to the sudden illumination and you focused on drawing in small breaths, your throat aching. Ushar said nothing, likely waiting for you to answer. Instead you looked around his room, shocked at how different it was from Kylo’s quarters. One wall was lined with what you assumed were clubs – long metal poles ending in various blunt shapes, each looking like it could inflict more pain than the last. His bed was rumpled, sheets of red silk spilling onto the floor, pooling on the ground like freshly spilled blood. Clothes were strewn about on every surface, and a shelf of items you couldn’t discern lined the wall opposite the weapons. The space was dripping in personality.

Ushar sat on the edge of his bed, one leg propped up on the edge in a casual gesture. His eyebrow quirked in amusement as you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. His eyes slid down to your neck, and you could only imagine what he saw there.

Opening his bedside table, Ushar rummaged through the contents, pulling out a small tube. He nodded his head to a large leather armchair in the corner of the room. “Sit.”

Maybe it was the oxygen deprivation, but you listened, sitting on the edge of the chair as though it would swallow you whole if you relaxed. Ushar stood in a smooth movement, walking to you as you tried not to flinch away from him. He grabbed one of the folding chairs – identical to the ones in Kylo’s room – and spun it around so the back was facing you. The knight sat down, legs spread in an indecent way considering the thin material of his sleep pants.

“He certainly has a temper on him,” Ushar said, the sound rough, as though he wasn’t used to speaking this way.

You nodded once, wincing at the movement as it pulled at the skin of your neck, making it throb in pain. Despite your better judgement, you weren’t going to fight him. He was being much kinder to you than you deserved – either as a prisoner or as the person who had kneed him in the balls less than a day ago. You weren’t going to test his patience a second time.

Ushar raised his hand to your collar, and this time you did flinch away. He ignored you, pulling the collar roughly to the side and examining what you assumed were the start of some pretty horrific bruises. Ushar chuckled, shaking his head as he dropped your collar. Prick. 

Unscrewing the cap from the tube in his hands, he squeezed a small amount onto his finger and reached forward again. You braced yourself, breath hissing through your clenched teeth as his finger connected with the sorest parts of your neck.

He worked methodically, spreading the ointment in light strokes. By the time he was done, the pain was already fading to a dull ache.

“So, now you in the mood to chat sweetheart?” His eyes watched your throat bob as you swallowed, testing your vocal cords.

“Escaped,” you said, the sound scratchy. You cleared your throat, trying again, though it didn’t help. “Tried to, I mean.”

He eyed you, face serious. Like before, he broke into a laugh. He seemed amused anytime you opened your mouth.

“Thanks,” you said, gesturing to your neck. Now that he’d offered you this kindness, you debated apologizing for kneeing him in the balls, but truthfully you weren’t really sorry. He was being an aggressive prick then. But for reasons unknown to you, he was treating you well now.

Ushar shrugged, the gesture casual. You could tell though it was put on, his shoulders tense. As though he could see your analysis of him, he stood up and walked away, dropping the tube back in his nightstand.

“Why am I here?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you.

Ushar turned back to face you, crossing his arms. “I’m in charge of keeping you alive until Kylo and the others get back.”  
  
“Get back from where?”

The look he gave you was halfway between humour and disbelief that you would ask a question like that. It was hard to remember, in this room that seemed almost normal, that you were here against your will, at the mercy of the most feared men in the galaxy. You changed tactics, still wanting information.

“Is it just the two of us here?” You asked, hoping the answer was yes. One knight would be much easier to escape than six plus Kylo.

Ushar laughed, dropping down onto the bed and crossing his hands behind his head. “I’m not stupid, and neither are you, so let’s drop the pretense. If you escape on my watch, Kylo may not kill me, but there are certainly things worse than death. So yes, it is just the two of us. But don’t think for a second that means your chances of escape are any better than when they were all here. In fact, they’re probably worse.”

His eyes shifted to the end of his bed, your jaw dropping in response to what you saw. You hadn’t noticed before, the covers that were falling off the bed mostly obscuring them. Chains. Several of them, anchored to his bed. The smile he gave you was predatory.

“I won’t try to escape,” you said, a desperation leaking into your words. The idea of being chained up terrified you, took you past the point of caring if you were begging. “Please. _Please._ ”

Ushar looked you up and down, taking in the way you were shaking apart at the thought. He couldn’t understand – no one could – but you’d take Kylo choking you to death over being chained up any day.

A long-suffering sigh escaped Ushar’s lips, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You thought you heard him mutter the word “idiotic”, though it was too faint to hear.

He grabbed a datapad off his bedside table, groaning at what he saw.

“Fine. Whatever. It’s ridiculously early, but you can come with me while I train this morning.” He got up from the bed, walking with purpose into the closet. You could no longer see him, but you could hear the sound of drawers opening and closing and more muttering. A minute later he walked back out, dressed in tight black workout clothes.

Eager to leave this room and the chains that seemed to glimmer at you menacingly, you stood and waited near the door while Ushar grabbed running shoes and a few other items. You did your best to shrink yourself down. The last thing you wanted was for him to decide you were too much of a threat and leave you here chained up.

Ready to go, Ushar walked right up to you, not stopping until you were practically sharing a breath. “If you pull any shit, I won’t hesitate to use whatever force necessary to stop you. And when your body is broken and bleeding, I’ll take whatever is left and chain you up and leave you there until he returns. Got it?”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded once. You weren’t planning on submitting to being a prisoner, but you were not going to cross this man, at least not yet. The threats coming off his lips were promises, and you had no desire to see them come to fruition.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. Without hesitation you followed behind him, close enough that he knew you weren’t trying to escape.

The farther you got from his room, the more relaxed you felt, the threat of the chains fading.

In only a few strides you were both in the dimly lit common area. Ushar didn’t stop, heading into a door propped ajar that was brightly lit within. He didn’t check to see if you followed him in, confident in his threats.

The room was massive, larger than any other space you’d seen thus far in these shared accommodations. Racks of clubs, axes, scythes, rifles and other weapons lined the farthest wall. A sparring ring sat tucked into the corner on the left of the room, and on the wall to the right of you were exercise machines and free weights of every size and weight. Benches ran along the left wall, and you went to sit on one while Ushar tied his shoes. The move was so… normal. Without meaning to, you cracked a small smile. He clocked the movement immediately.

“Something funny?” He asked.

“You tie your shoes,” you said, immediately cringing. There was only so much stupidity you could blame on oxygen deprivation.

“Were you expecting Velcro?” He chuckled, not waiting for an answer as he stretched his arms over his head, twisting at the waist.

He hopped on a treadmill at the farthest end of the row of machines, buttons pinging as he increased the incline and speed. Within a couple minutes he was practically sprinting, his pace never slowing. After at least a quarter of an hour, he was still running at the same pace, not even breaking a sweat.

Being Kylo’s, and now Ushar’s prisoner, you expected many feelings – fear, anger, rage. What you hadn’t expected was boredom. Watching Ushar as he went through the different machines and weights wasn’t able to hold your attention, and you found your mind wandering.

A pang of guilt hit you as you realized you had no idea where Miralores was. You’d been conscious for part of the trip where Kylo had carried you from the ship, though that didn’t tell you if he had been with them. What if he wasn’t even here? What if Kylo was off somewhere right now, torturing information out of him on the Resistance’s whereabouts? The longer you thought about it, you were sure that you were right.

The Resistance hadn’t felt like home, but that didn’t mean you wanted innocent people to die, people you’d worked alongside for months. Like Q’oh, who’d sacrificed so much to help you. A feeling of guilt washed over you, the wave of emotion drowning you. Your rescue mission had been a disappointment. You’d come to save your best friend, and instead you were a prisoner, and she was dead. The corner of your heart that you were trying so desperately to shove your sadness into kept throbbing, like a physical wound. You pushed your fist into your chest and ground your knuckles into the skin to try and take away the pain, but it wasn’t helping.

You needed to do something – anything – to distract yourself from this pain. Standing abruptly, you paced back in forth, sticking to the part of the gym Ushar wasn’t using. You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t comment. Minute after minute ticked by, and though the pacing wasn’t really helping, it was better than sitting still.

“I’m getting dizzy watching you – cut it out,” Ushar called to you from across the gym. You stopped immediately, sitting down on the bench again. Your feet began bouncing, the motion rocking through your whole body. You needed an outlet for the emotions since cramming them down where you didn’t have to look to closely at them wasn’t working.

Ushar had moved on to a punching bag, the rhythmic tap-tap as his fists connected with the bag echoing in the room.

Your mind continued spiralling, the scene in Kylo’s quarters finally taking up room. What the hell had happened there? You remember feeling so turned on, so attracted to him. Those feelings were now gone, a cold disgust left in their place. You shook your head, pressing your fingers into your eyes as though you could force the reason for your erratic behaviour from your brain.

“ _What_ is it,” he asked, grabbing the bag to stop it from swinging as he turned to face you. His expression was a mix of disbelief and frustration.

There was no way you were going to tell him. The emotions had started battering you now, and you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop replaying your reaction to Kylo in his quarters, nausea rolling through you.

Standing up abruptly, you tried to run, looking for a garbage can, but you barely made it a few steps before you bent in half, throwing up the contents of your stomach, watching in horror as they splattered along the polished floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ushar groaned, unstrapping the gloves from his wrists and tossing them on the ground, the loud slapping sound startling you.

You were still heaving, the emotions bigger than what you could hold in your body. Bile was rising up again as Ushar approached, throwing a towel at you, telling you to clean up the mess.

Wiping the edges of your mouth instead, you stumbled backwards, feeling lightheaded. The room was spinning. Reaching backwards, you pressed your hand on the wall to steady yourself. White spots were bursting in your vision. You looked at Ushar, who’s mouth was moving in slow motion, the sound muffled.

Was the ground getting closer? Your legs gave out, the sight of Ushar as he pinched the bridge of his nose the last thing you saw as you passed out.

\--

Waking up was painful. Your whole body seemed to be hurt, between your busted ankle, your stiff shoulder and your aching neck. Feeling around, you groaned. You were on the floor. Again.

Shifting, you heard the rattling of metal clanging against itself. You sat upright, hands fumbling towards the sound, and found the chain that was tied to your injured ankle. Panicking, you took in deep inhales of air, trying to get it off. It wouldn’t budge and you could feel the sweat coating your skin.

 _Not again_. Another time, another memory, of another monster chaining you up, beating you unconscious…

A cry slid out of your lips as your fingers pried at the cuff, your nails scraping against your skin and leaving bloody claw marks behind. You just, you had to get out, you _had_ to.

The door slid open, the light from the now brightly lit hallway dousing the room, Ushar a dark, backlit shadow.

“Stop it,” he said, moving to where you were chained.

You were still struggling, trying to back away from him. He grunted, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back closer to him, using a key to pop open the cuff. “I had to get someone to clean up the mess you made and I couldn’t just leave you.”

The chain fell to the ground with a loud clatter and he dropped your leg. You breathed a sigh of instant relief, though now that you were free of the cuffs, another problem demanded your immediate attention: your mouth tasted horrific and you desperately wished for a toothbrush.

“What time is it?” You asked, watching as he flicked on a few light switches.

“Does it matter?” He retorted, looking down at you with his arms crossed.

Subtly, you tried to rub off some of the gross feeling on your teeth with your knuckle. Looking down, you groaned internally. You had not been successful in avoiding getting vomit on yourself, the splatter along the cuffs of your rolled up pant legs dried on. Ushar saw what you were looking at and cursed.

“For fuck’s sake. I’m going to kill Kylo.” Ushar then starts grumbling, words like _babysitter_ , _not my job_ and _errands_.

While he was pacing, you could see him getting angrier. You tucked your legs up, resting your head on your knees and wrapping your arms around your calves. He clocked the movement, and it only seemed to make him angrier. Ushar clearly had a temper on him, though you’d seen him be … well, not kind. But curious maybe. Not fully evil? It was a confusing dichotomy, one you didn’t quite understand. How were these men all connected to each other, and to Kylo? And to your brother. Ap’lek was a sadistic asshole, but you didn’t see cruelty in Ushar, not the way you would expect. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Not as bad as Ap’lek could still be really, really fucked up.

“Get up,” Ushar commanded, finally standing still.

Unfurling your limbs, you stood, feeling shaky. After emptying the contents of your stomach, you had nothing in your system, and hadn’t in… now that you thought about it, your last meal was days ago.

“Kylo is going to be gone for ... more than today. You clearly have nothing and he didn’t even consider the ramifications of asking me to watch over you and not so much as giving you a change of clothes.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose again, looking exasperated. “Ok, you have two options. I chain you up and leave you here to get supplies. Or I chain you up and you come with me to get supplies. There is no third option, so don’t fucking ask.”

“Come with you,” you said. There was no question. A chance to leave this suite of rooms and see the base? Figure out a means to escape? Jackpot.

Ushar walked to his dresser, opening the bottom drawer. He rifled through the contents, and you couldn’t help looking. He pulled out a pair of metal cuffs with a bar linking them. “This will do,” he said, motioning for you to put your hands forward so he could clasp them on.

Your eyes looked back to the drawer, eyeing the torture tools you could see there – whips, chains, something that had flat screws around a clamp and … wait was that a vibrator?

Ushar laughed, kicking the drawer shut. “I wouldn’t move your hands around a lot.”

He grabbed your wrists, pulling them apart an inch. The bar extended and wouldn’t go back. Your face paled as you realized these were not, in fact torture devices. Not as you had originally thought, anyways.

You looked back down at your cuffs, unable to wipe the shocked look off your face.

“You can’t walk me around in this. Everyone is going to think…” Your rasping voice trailed off.

“What, that a Knight of Ren is walking around with a prisoner in sex handcuffs? No offence sweetheart but have you taken a look at yourself lately? No one is going to assume I’m having sex with you. Now walk or stay behind.” He headed towards the door, and you followed behind him.

He slung a leather jacket on, and it was an odd look. It made sense, that they wouldn’t wear helmets and cloaks all the time, though that was exactly what you had thought before this moment.

Leaving the suite of rooms, you couldn’t help but feel excitement. You could map out an escape, look around for Miralores, and if what you were guessing was true, you were about to get supplies, including a toothbrush.

Ushar’s strides were long and you struggled to keep up, your eyes taking in everything you could. Left turn. Right. Another right. Three lefts. Or was that four? The problem was, every hallway you walked down looked the exact same as the last. At one point you were pretty sure he was walking you in circles. A few times you came across other people, usually in uniform, and when they saw Ushar they immediately shied away, cowering into a door frame or down another hallway until he’d passed. No one dared make eye contact, though you saw a few glance your way after he’d passed.

He came to a stop in front of a door that looked like every other. It was completely unmarked, though you could smell a distinctly floral scent lingering in this part of the hallway. He knocked, fidgeting with his jacket a bit as you waited.

The door swung open, and one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen stood in the doorway. Her skin was a deep brown, as was her long, curly hair. Her features were strong, powerful, and she stood almost as tall as the Knight before her. Her eyes looked you up and down, a stunning violet that seemed to pierce right through to the core of you. She was absolutely mesmerizing.

Her attention snapped back to Ushar, her face managing to be annoyed and gentle all at once. Stepping back, she waved her arm indicating you should both enter. You walked inside and let out a small gasp.

The room was stunning, and the source of the smell was now evident. Every inch of the space was covered in black drapes, soft lights twinkling behind them. All of the surfaces had bouquets exploding with every type of flower, some you’d never even seen before. The smell was intoxicating. Ushar followed behind her as she moved into a small living room, each of them choosing a different sofa and facing one another. Unsure what to do, you hovered near the now-closed door.

“I’ve told you not to involve me in his schemes,” she said to Ushar, frowning as she took you in. “I don’t like that there is a girl in my home, against her will, in handcuffs no less.”

Ushar said something, more quietly than your ears could pick up, and she let out a sigh.

“What is it you need from me?” She questioned, looking at you again. Those eyes. It felt like they saw far, far too much.

“Master Ren is away and has left her in my charge. She needs… things.”

Her head whipped to him then, a laugh peeling out of her throat. Like everything else about her, it was beautiful, even though you heard the slightly manic edge to it.

“And you expect me to what, exactly? Assist in easing your conscience by offering her a few comforts? He will punish you for this.”

“Forget I asked,” Ushar said, standing and walking back towards you. “We’re leaving.”

You turned to face her, hoping you weren’t mistaking the kindness you saw on her face. Letting yourself be open to it, you relaxed, feeling a like your skin was being gently caressed as she took you in. Her eyebrow quirked up, and she clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh Ushar, you are not going anywhere. Why didn’t you tell me she’s a Dream Walker?” she stood, walking towards you, though floating would be a more accurate word, her dress of spun gold rippling around her as she moved.

This wasn’t what you’d intended. Your only thought had been to make her take pause, take pity on you. You tried not to back away as she came close, close enough that you could see her eyes were swirling, shifting, as though they were a cloud moving fast through the sky.

She clasped her hands around yours, as best she could with the cuffs, and her eyes bored into yours. “My name is Esmira, and though you don’t know me, I know you. And my dear, I have been looking for you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures in Ushar babysitting you continues, ft. Esmira. Also a chance to learn a little bit more about your past and Ap'lek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning - blades, cutting, ritualistic self harm. Proceed with due caution <3

“No. Absolutely the fuck not Es. You cannot lay claim to her.” Ushar wrapped a hand around your arm, pulling you into him. You stumbled, shocked from the sudden change in his disposition. What the hell?

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” she chided, pulling you out of his grasp. You bit your tongue at the annoyance of being caught in the middle of their tug of war. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Ushar didn’t let you go, and Esmira looked at his hand on your arm, her eyes boring into it until he dropped it as though you had burned him.

“Fuck,” he ground out, his face etched in frustration.

“That’s better,” she said simply, dragging you away from him.

Though he’d let you go, Ushar stood at the door with his arms crossed. It was probably the only way in and out of her quarters, so he trusted her enough to take you to another room without following, but not enough to assume she wouldn’t bolt with you out the door.

The rest of her quarters were much the same as her main room, all the cold, metal walls draped with beautiful fabrics. If you hadn’t been bound in handcuffs, you would have run your fingers along them just to see if they felt as soft as they looked.

“He’s such a beast,” Esmira said, snapping her fingers. The cuffs popped free, hitting the floor with a thud. She turned to cast you a soft smile. “I only use the best fabrics, and while your hands are now free to do as you want, I’d ask kindly you don’t touch them until after you wash up.”

“Can you … read my thoughts?” The idea of it churned your stomach.

“More that I can sense intentions, desires,” she replied, leading you into her bedroom. Here the walls were lined in a deep red fabric, the furniture a rich ebony and everything else – from the lamps to the gilded mirrors – were the same gold as her dress. Opulence. The word clanged through you. This was the definition of opulence. She breezed to her closet, shuffling through clothes and pulling items off hangers and tossing them in a pile.

Feeling bold, you leaned around the corner to make sure Ushar was out of earshot. “So, does that mean you can sense Ushar’s interest in you?”

Her hands stilled, her head slowly turning to you, an appraising look on her face. “You are certainly an interesting creature.”

“Because I’m a Dream Walker?” You weren’t sure what it meant, but you’d heard the title multiple times now and she was the most likely person to give you answers.

“Because you are in my room, a prisoner of Kylo Ren, just moments ago chained up by one of his most feared Knights, and you haven’t let that stop your smart mouth from running. Either you’re fearless or stupid. Perhaps both. Time will tell.”

“It’s not like I have anything to lose.” The statement was meant to be flippant, but even you couldn’t miss how dejected you sounded.

“Everyone has something to lose.” She handed you a bundle of clothes with toiletries piled on top, gesturing for you to enter what you assumed was her bathing facilities.

Working on autopilot, you shut yourself in the sterile white room, a stark contrast from the rest of her quarters. Her words ran on a loop in your mind as you peeled your vomit-stained clothes from your body. Everyone has something to lose. Not you. You’d already lost everything – everyone. Your home, your best friend. Even your freedom. What did a person have left?

The shower was quick, efficient. You wanted answers more than you wanted to linger under the hot stream. Though you took your time scrubbing your teeth, relieved as the rancid taste left your mouth.

The clothes she’d offered you weren’t as dramatic as what she was wearing, and you were glad. You could only imagine the fit Kylo Ren would have if he found you lounging in Ushar’s quarters in an elegant gown. Running your fingers along the silky soft fabric, you held it up to your body. It was a black jumpsuit, loose except where it sinched around the waist. It was sleeveless, the front and back sporting a deep V. This was certainly more your size than Kylo’s clothes that you’d been wearing.

You tugged the jumpsuit on and slipped on the black ballet flats that had been in the pile, taking in your reflection. It was almost scandalous, with your lack of bra. But it felt fantastic to be in something that wasn’t an oversized resistance uniform. Or Kylo’s oversized clothes. It brightened your outlook considerably, which was ridiculous. You were still a prisoner. Esmira could dress you up and offer you a toothbrush, but at the end of the day you had no free will here. Nothing to lose.

Your fingers trailed around your neck, and the lack of bruising. Apparently, the ointment had done more than take away the pain. You’d never had access to medicine so advanced before. Years of injuries – mostly inflicted onto you – flashed through your mind. Yes, it definitely would have been handy to have that back then.

As much as you wanted to toss them, you knew you needed to keep Kylo’s clothes to change back into on his return. At least if you didn’t want to be killed on the spot. Folding them, you stepped out of the bathing room, returning to her bedroom.

“Well aren’t you a sight,” she said, smiling wide. “Hard to believe all that was hiding under the vomit coated pile of fabrics you walked in here wearing.”

“Hard to believe the prisoner uniforms aren’t more chic,” you quipped, smiling as Esmira laughed.

“You are a delight my dear.” She stood from where she was perched on her bed, putting down the datapad she’d been reading. “I’m assuming you haven’t been fed?”

In response your stomach growled – loudly. Esmira sighed, those violet eyes rippling as she stormed from the room. You followed behind her, leaving the clothes on a pile near the bedroom door, not wanting to carry them around as long as you were here. They really did smell something awful. By the time you joined her, she had her finger in Ushar’s face, scolding him. Did she have a death wish?

Though based on the look on Ushar’s face, you couldn’t tell if he wanted to fuck her or kill her. Maybe both.

“She’s staying until she’s been fed. If you want to fight me on it, you are welcome to swing the first punch.”

Damn. And she thought you were fearless? You couldn’t imagine speaking to any of the knights that way.

Ushar’s eyes flicked to you as you approached, his eyes rolling. “For fuck’s sake Es, what have you dressed her in?”

“Gonna be harder to treat me like a prisoner when I look this hot?” You asked, cocking out your hip.

Ushar turned his angry stare on Esmira. “She’s been here barely half an hour and already your attitude has rubbed off on her. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Next time then, ask someone else for help.” She turned on her heel, stomping her way through her quarters.

Not wanting to be left alone with the agitated knight, you followed her, giving him as wide a berth as you could. It wasn’t enough though, his hand snatching out to pull you towards him. His fingers dug painfully into your bare upper arm, and you clenched your fists to stop yourself from lashing out at him. He was right. You’d been developing a false sense of security with her around and it was going to get you killed.

You waited for him to say something, or strike you. But he just kept staring at you, eyes hardened.

Esmira leaned around the doorway, tsking at him. “Leave her be you beast. Let me feed her and then you can both be off.”

Ushar dropped your arm, pushing past you and sitting on her sofa with more force than necessary. You shook out your arm that had started to go numb from his grip, walking to where Esmira was tinkering in her small kitchen.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the black table that was piled high with loose bolts of fabric. You pushed them aside, careful not to crease or wrinkle them. 

Unable to help yourself, you let your fingers run through the different materials. One in particular stood out to you. It was a thick, heavy fabric of deepest black – so dark it seemed to suck in the light. You’d never seen anything quite like it. No matter how you angled it, the colour didn’t change, the true definition of absence.

“You have good taste,” Esmira said, startling you. You pushed the fabric away as she placed a plate of food in front of you. “Tell me, what drew you to it?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, wondering how rude it would be to shovel down he food. Your empty stomach was aching.

“Please,” she said, gesturing that you should eat. You didn’t have to be told twice.

She watched you as you ate, a pensive look on her face. You didn’t like the scrutiny, and though you were happily clearing your plate, not knowing when your next meal would be, you considered her question. What did draw you to it? There was something indescribably beautiful about it, like it was meant for so much more than to be fashioned into a simple garment. Though whenever you tried to imagine exactly what that would be, your mind came up blank.

Pushing away the empty plate, you leaned back in your chair, resting your hands on your now full stomach. You were still contemplating her question, finally coming up with your answer. Or at least an answer. “It’s not a colour.”

“Explain.”

“Well,” you said, eyeing the fabric again. “Everything has a colour. This jumpsuit for instance, is black. One would identify it as such. But this fabric is the lack of colour. It is the absence of light. There is something about that darkness that… appeals to me.”

“Interesting,” she said, lacing her fingers in front of her, the gems on her many rings glinting in the dim lighting.

“Where does it come from?”

“It was a gift, a debt repayment. It is one of the last bolts of this fabric left in the galaxy. It is thought that the material is woven from the energy of a collapsing black hole.”

You eyed the fabric with new interest, though you didn’t dare touch it again, not with the remnants of your meal still on your hands. “Shouldn’t something so valuable be… I don’t know, not tossed on your kitchen table?”

“Perhaps, though you will find many items in my home that would be considered priceless. But until it’s use comes to fruition, it has no more value to me than any other bolt of fabric.”

“Do you not worry that someone would attempt to steal them?”

“Here? With Ushar known to frequent my quarters? No, I do not worry.” Her smile was cocky, and it made you like her all the more.

“Earlier you said you know me, that you've been looking for me. I think you are the only one who will offer me the truth. Can you tell me why everyone thinks I am a Dream Walker? I’ve never heard of such a thing, and though I’m thankful for what you’ve offered me today, I believe you are mistaken. I’m nothing special.”

Esmira sighed, sliding one of her rings from her finger. It was an uncut purple stone, much smaller than any of the others that adorned her hands. The band itself was a thin silver chain, connected to either side of the stone. She handed it to you, and you slid it onto the pointer finger of your right hand. It seemed to adjust to the size of your finger, a perfect fit.

“Ushar will wonder soon why he can’t hear us,” she said, eyes still on the ring. With a start you realized it was the exact shade of her eye colour. With that ability of hers, she nodded in confirmation, her gaze coming up to lock on yours. “You have many questions, that they may not give you answers to. I trust Ushar to keep you safe until Kylo Ren returns, but beyond that I don’t know what your fate will be. It is a precarious time for you. I am not mistaken, and neither are they. Please do try not to get yourself killed before I see you again.” 

She snapped her fingers, the ring warming on your skin. It heated up, alarming you as it began to singe into your skin, feeling like a band of fire. Just before you tugged it off the heat relented, though you could no longer see the ring, only a tingle of pain left in its absence.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, twisting your hand, nothing but a faint red line left from where you’d felt like the skin on your finger was burning away.

“A little trick I picked up along the way,” she said with a wink, pressing her finger to her lips to shush you.

Ushar walked in the room then, looking between the two of you. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and you did your best to squash the guilty look that was surely threatening to break across your face.

Esmira was studying her fingernails, the picture of boredom. “You are welcome to take her back to your quarters, unless you would like to leave her here with me?

Though you knew he wouldn’t take her up on the offer, you still hoped he would. Disappointment had your stomach sinking as he barked out a laugh. 

“Let’s go,” he ordered you, chin jutting towards the door.

You slipped from your seat, taking one last look at the fabric that had drawn your eye. Oddly, you hoped you would see it again.

The clothes Kylo Ren had given you were still by her room, so you fetched them, walking slower than normal to delay the inevitable. Here, with Esmira, you felt almost… normal. Deciding to take the toothbrush and other toiletries she’d offered you as well, you bundled everything together and returned to the main room. Esmira and Ushar were locked in a stare down, the tension so palpable you had to look away, though only for a moment as curiosity got the better of you. Neither of them looked to you, as though they hadn’t noticed your return. 

“Thank you,” Ushar murmured, his voice the same gentle tone as when he had applied the ointment to your neck.

Esmira inclined her head, her curls shifting with the movement. “I am glad you came to me. She is something special. Do your best not to take out your pain on her.”

She lifted her hand, pressing it into his chest, right above his heart. His face cast into a frown, his body tense at the casual contact.

“Es,” he whispered, his hand wrapping around her wrist as though to pull her away. Instead he held tight, and you watched transfixed as his breathing changed, became shallower.

“Until next time,” she said, patting her fingers on his chest before stepping away from him.

He dropped her hand, shaking his head as though coming out of a dazed state. His eyes snapped to you, standing there watching them, his face scowling. “Let’s go,” he barked out, turning around and slamming his hand into the scanner on the wall.

The door hissed open, and you barely had time to acknowledge the scanner was keyed to his handprint before you were chasing after him. Esmira said nothing, and you cast her a quick look back to where she stood in the doorway, watching your departure. You mouthed a thank you to her, a small smile on her face as you rounded the corner out of sight.

Facing forward, you weren’t quick enough to react, surprised that Ushar had stopped. You crashed into his back, everything in your hands falling to the floor.

“Fuck!” He shouted, rounding on you. Flinching away from him, and the anger radiating off him, you dropped to your knees, gathering up the fallen items.

“Sorry, sorry,” you muttered, picking everything up and standing, worried he was going to do exactly the opposite of what Esmira had asked and strike you where you stood.

“Just watch where you’re walking,” he growled, as though he hadn’t been the one to stop abruptly. But you knew better than to argue with him, so you simply nodded in agreement.

He took off again, your legs taking two steps for every one of his lengthy strides. Anyone you passed took one look at the violence etched into his face and cowered away, even more fearful than before. His temper must be known then, to elicit this kind of reaction.

Faster than on the way to Esmira’s, you returned to Kylo and the Knights’ quarters, Ushar not bothering to take the roundabout way. Which was mildly concerning. Maybe he had decided to kill you after all, making his earlier deception irrelevant.

He stormed all the way into his room, and you didn’t know whether to follow him. If you did, he may just kill you for being in the path of his anger. If you didn’t, he may kill you for disobeying. It was not a good day to be you. Though recently, that was most days.

Ushar decided for you, barking out a “come here” as he stood in the doorway to his bedroom.

Like before, you worked to shrink yourself down, make yourself a smaller target in hopes he wouldn’t attack. You stepped into his room, the door sliding ominously closed behind you. When he rounded on you, a squeak escaped your lips. Dammit. He clocked the sound, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“If this is about what I saw, I won’t say anything,” you said, pre-empting his threats. You weren’t stupid – this anger was directly related to him not wanting you to know about whatever was between him and Esmira, which meant he didn’t want Kylo to know. “I have more to lose than you do by revealing what she did for me today. I promise you my silence.”

“And I’m supposed to take the word of rebel scum as something of value?” He sneered, the words dripping with distaste.

“How about the word of someone who quite likes Esmira and would prefer she stay alive. If I reveal what I saw today, what happened, we wouldn’t be the only ones to suffer.”

“Taking you there was a mistake.” He was pacing now, though the scowl had slid from his face. A cold resignation took over his features, causing dread to pool in your stomach. His left hand clenched, the muscles under his leather jacket bulging with the motion. You were under no misconception. If he wanted to kill you right now, you would die by his hand. And he was currently weight the pros and cons of letting Kylo Ren know he’d killed his master’s prisoner.

Not sure what else to do, you took a risk, offering the only thing you could. If this didn’t work, nothing would.

“Do you have a blade?” Your question stopped him in his tracks.

Ushar looked at you in disbelief, his eyes casting about his room that had a weapon on every surface. None though were what you were looking for though, all of them large and menacing and enough to take a limb clean off.

“A smaller one,” you qualified.

He walked to his bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a small switchblade with a carved wooden handle. You held your hand out, his eyebrow quirking in response.

“You expect me to hand you a weapon?”

“I expect you to be able to disarm me if I were to use it against you,” you retorted, hand still outstretched.

“You’re a real piece of work,” he grumbled, stomping over and slamming the switchblade into your hand, your fingers closing around the wood.

“We’ll need salt, too.”

“For what.” Oh, he was in a foul mood, his words dripping like poison.

“Do you want assurances of my silence, or to stress over murdering me and subsequently facing Kylo’s wrath?”

A string of curses poured from his mouth as he left the bedroom, likely grabbing salt from the kitchen. While he was gone you rooted through his dresser, pulling out one of his shirts. Unsurprisingly it was black.

You slipped the thick straps of your jumpsuit off your shoulders, rolling it until it rested on your hips. Tugging his shirt on, you tied it at the front so your midsection was completely bare. He stomped back into the room, pausing as he saw you. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, not walking any closer.

“I imagine you’ve seen my brother shirtless?” You asked, taking the salt from Ushar’s hand.

“I have,” he said, his fury giving way to curiosity. “Why?”

“The scars are why.” You poured out two small piles of salt onto his table, one for each of you. Flipping open the switchblade, you turned so Ushar could see your left side, and the inch-long scars that ran in rows down your ribs.

“Ap’lek has those same scars,” he said, walking over to take a closer look. “Though he has substantially more of them. At least triple what you do.”

“That’s because Ap’lek found himself in need of making substantially more Boundings than I ever did.” You shook your head, forcing those memories from your mind. Not now, not ever, did you want to think about that time.

Your fingers trembled as you angled the blade right below the most recent scar, carved into your skin when you’d first joined the rebels. Thoughts of Kaith threatened to stop your heart, and you pushed it all down deep. Boundings were too emotional and you needed to focus. 

“If you know Ap’lek, you know that regardless of the fact he’s a vindictive, sadistic prick, he is a man of his word. That stems from our upbringing. A Bounding is a life promise, one that our people hold sacred. I’m offering to you a Bounding. What happened today, and what happens until Kylo returns, will stay between us. It has been spoken, it will be bounded to flesh. From today until my death, you will be granted this Bounding.”

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the blade in until you hit bone, teeth clenching together.

“What the fuck?” Ushar watched in shock as you held the blade in your side, blood running in rivulets down your abdomen. What the fuck, indeed.

Pulling the blade free, you dropped it onto the table, blood dripping from the pointed tip onto the polished wood.

“If you accept the Bounding, seal it.” You nodded towards his pile of salt on the table.

“As in… rub salt in the wound?”

You nodded, already locking your jaw in place. Stabbing yourself hurt. Having someone else rub salt in the wound? Infinitely worse.

Ushar took a pinch of salt, and you locked down every muscle in your body as he reached forward, pushing it into the wound, rubbing it along the cut, ensuring the scar would never heal properly, forever Bounding your promise to him. You swallowed a whimper, the pain rippling deep. He dropped his hand, a mixture of salt and your blood on his fingertips. Taking a pinch from your own pile, you pressed it in, repeating the words that were ingrained in your mind, and had been since you were a child.

“It has been sealed, we are bounded in flesh. From today until my death, you have been granted this Bounding.”

The ceremony completed, a shudder rippled out of you. As though the manifestation of that promise took a piece of your soul with it. Sometimes it felt that way, each scar a reminder that you had been raised to give too much to too many.

“What happens if a Bounding is broken?” He asked, eyes on the rows of scars, as though he wondered what other promises you had made. If only he knew.

“I would die,” you replied, shrugging. “By my own hand.”

“And you actually would do it?”

“Death would be preferable to breaking a Bounding. In this life we have very little else but our words. We are raised to respect and honour that, if nothing else. So yes, I would.”

“Can those outside of your people make a Bounding?” He asked, flicking his gaze to you. Gone was the violent turmoil that churned deep within him, replaced by nothing but curiosity… and perhaps a touch of respect. It was unexpected, though somewhat pleasant.

“It is rare, though it has been done.” Unbidden, thoughts of Kaith’s scar came to mind. You blinked back the tears. Damn Boundings, so emotional. “It needs to be performed by a member of my community for it to be recognized. It’s why I had to pierce my own flesh. You couldn’t do it for me for it to be legitimate.”

“So you would have to use the blade on me in order for the Bounding to be recognized?”

Without meaning to you laughed. “Eager to have me stab you?”

“You are insufferable,” he muttered, walking into the bathing room. He returned a moment later with a wet rag, tossing it at you. “Stop bleeding all over my room. I’ve had enough of your bodily functions for one day.”

The rag was soaked through with frigidly cold water, but you didn’t complain, having half expected him to leave you bleeding. You wiped away the trail of blood but left the cut itself untouched, letting the salt continue it’s work in ensuring the scar was thoroughly formed.

The datapad on Ushar’s bedside table pinged and he picked it up, scrolling through the incoming message. His eyebrows pinched together at whatever he was reading, and you found yourself curious as to what was happening.

Dangerous, this was so dangerous. In what seemed like almost no time at all, you were finding yourself forgetting that you were here, against your will. Apparently all it took was a nice outfit and a Bounding to a Knight of Ren for you to forget your plans to escape. You needed to find your way off this base, back to … well you weren’t sure where. Not the rebels, certainly. That outpost had held very little for you without Kaith, and now that she was… gone, you wouldn’t be returning. You’d rebuilt before, many times. You could do it again. You had to. The alternative was staying here until you died, which would be very soon. Likely whenever Kylo Ren returned.

Ushar threw the datapad down, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did that a lot, when he was frustrated. It was interesting to see that he too, seemed to be forgetting that you were a prisoner. This was only confirmed with his next words to you.

“I’m needed to deal with … an issue. Elsewhere on base. I would offer you the option of staying behind in chains or coming with, but I know what you are going to choose.” 

Hope bubbled in your chest, as well as excitement. You would be leaving these quarters, again. Another chance to snoop and assess a plan for escape. Part of you was also curious what it was that he was being requested for, what he did when he wasn’t being… well, a Knight of Ren.

Ushar walked into his closet, pulling down another leather jacket from a hanger and tossing it to you. The fabric felt stiff in your hands, the jacket much too large for you, though you didn’t complain. The jacket meant you were going outside. This was even better than you could have ever wished.

“Put your clothes back on. We’re heading out.”


End file.
